Interrogation Series
by LuKEN
Summary: Prequel to my S3 AUversion 'Never Change Faces', following Nina between days 1 and 3. Final Part up!
1. Title

Last year was _Never Change Faces. _

This year is travelling back in time.

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Title: Interrogation Series

Summary: Prequel to my AU-version of S3 _Never Change Faces_ following Nina in the time between day 1 and day 3.

Disclaimer: I don't own _24 _or any of its characters, this is a work of fan fiction, I don't make any money with it. (Too bad.) Neither with the original characters I created, but I do own them:-p

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Author's note and reading instructions:

As if it doesn't say enough that you might need any…

As mentioned above this is a prequel to another fic of mine, an AU-version of S3. If you haven't read _Never Change Faces_ you should, of course, absolutely do so, but it's not a precondition. Both fics can be read separately, although, if you ask for my personal opinion, I recommend to read backwards and start with the original instead of the prequel, just the way I wrote them.

Now, in order to help you navigate through the _24-time universe_, not to mention my little universe, there'll be some clues in each chapter as to where exactly we are. For those who are insecure, this is the time frame I'm using and which I believe to be correct:

S1> S2 18 months, S2> S3 3 years, so altogether this fic is covering 4 years and 6 months. In each chapter, you'll find **the positive time count from days 1 respectively 2, and the negative countdown to day 3 **as well as_the time that has passed since the the previous chapter_.

You'll get the hang of it…

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Now you should be all set to go. I'll try to keep my promise and update on a daily basis.

Enjoy and I hope it won't take you as long to read this as it took me to write it.


	2. Part 1 I

**d1+ some hours**

**d3: − 4 years, 6 months**

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_Some hours past midnight…_

Part I: Interrogations

"Hey!"

His hand slammed down on the table in front of her and Nina opened her eyes, jerking her head up. She had to have closed them for a moment...

She sat up straight and rolled her shoulders back, trying to find something to focus on. Exhaustion was finally catching up with her.

While the guy kept yelling at her, sitting on the edge of the table now, his face so close to hers that she could feel his breath and smell the coffee he had probably been drinking before coming in, she wondered what time it could be. Five? Six? Or later? She had no idea. How long had she been here?

When they had dragged her through the CTU corridors, she had caught sight of a clock. Four minutes past midnight. They had been in a hurry to get her out of there, and she was sure she knew why. _He found her. _

But he hadn't come after her or at least not caught up with her in time. She wondered if he had tried. If they had stopped him. Not that anyone would have cared about what Jack did to her. _Maybe Tony. And Mason. _Masonwould never have let him come near her. Not that he cared much either but things had to go by the book. Some things could be counted on.

But sitting in the van, waiting for them to get going, she had worried anyway. She knew how hard it was to stop Jack once he made up his mind. And he had probably made up his mind to go after her. He had already wanted to kill her when he had just thought she had betrayed him. She had no illusions about what he was going to do to her now. What he wanted to do anyway. She had counted the minutes. How long would it take him? He would be too shocked and shaken at first, slumped down somewhere and broken. But after a few minutes he would get back on his feet, focusing on the issue at hand, on whatever it was that was left to do. Could be done. It was the way he always handled things. She had felt a lot safer when the van had finally moved.

They had brought her to Division, no surprises there. Shoved her into an interrogation room and given her the standard treatment, knowing of course that she hadn't slept in nearly 40 hours and hoping it would make their job easier.

The first guy had just yelled at her, threatened her with what they should be doing to her, what could and would happen to her if she didn't start talking. A casual attempt to intimidate her but mostly it was just to keep her busy. Busy and awake. She had just sat there, looked at him with a void expression, listened but not said a word.

When had Drazen approached her? How? Had she been in direct contact? How? Had she been recruited inside the agency? What had her exact orders been? How long had she known what was going to go down today? Did she really wanna make things even worse for herself?

After a while he had left and the next guy had taken over. Already a bit better informed about the whole case, even a bit familiar with her file. He had taken a softer approach, tried to convince her that talking was the only way for her out of this. She had smiled at him, remembering the speech she and Tony had given Jamey earlier. He had even made the same helpless offer in the end, that everything she said might help cut her a deal. Again she had smiled and he had given up, shrugging his shoulders, stating he was sorry she didn't let him help her. _Please_, she had thought to herself. _At least send someone in who has an idea on how to do this job._

The door hadn't even been closed for twenty seconds before the next guy had been standing in the room, whom she almost believed had simply tried to bore her into a confession. Her mind had wondered off and soon he had been dismissed, replaced by her present interrogator. But after yelling at her for a prolonged period of time without getting any response, he was ordered to leave now as well. With a last glare at her, he turned around and walked out.

She used the short break to close her eyes again, trying to rest while she still could. She was getting more and more tired now and it would inevitably make her weaker. They knew how to use it and soon they would send someone in who would know how to handle her. She had to be on her guard then.

She heard the door open and close again, footsteps to her right, just a few, then nothing. She took her time before she opened her eyes, looking right at the mirror wall in front of her. Then she turned her head around, slowly, casually, indifferently.

She could tell right away he had done his homework. It was something about him that simply told her he was familiar with her file and with the case, knew what had been going down today. _Yesterday._ Whatever...

He just stood there for a while, studying her features and then her profile when she turned her head back again, incuriously, demonstrating she wasn't impressed or particularly interested. After a few seconds he came closer, sitting down across from her, resting his hands on the table. The sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows, his tie a bit loosened. His last shaving had been a while ago so it couldn't be morning yet. He didn't have to miss out on breakfast to come in. He hadn't been up as long as she had but he was definitely working overtime.

"You need anything?" he asked in a casual, almost friendly tone, trying to get her to say her first words, coax a reaction out of her since she hadn't shown any so far. She didn't now either.

"Alright," he sighed, leaning back a little. "We both know I'm just here to cover until they find someone who they think can get to you."

_Finally. _Finally someone who acknowledged that she wasn't new to the game.

He tilted his head and looked at her with a slightly amused expression.

"I imagined you taller."

He paused and smiled at her, giving her time to react, but she didn't. Just kept looking back at him with the same blank expression. Of course he had expected something else.

"I mean, I kinda would have expected a guy to be honest. Or at least someone more... ." He shrugged. "What can I say, I'm conservative."

Again he paused, still smiling but displaying a thoughtful expression then.

"I read you went to John Jay?"

She knew he wasn't just chitchatting, trying to kill time while he was stuck with her. But he surely was good at pretending he was. Not so much his words but the way he was sitting, his hands folded behind his head, looking as if he was bored and simply had nothing else to do. It surely was wasted on her but it was interesting to watch him.

"Criminal psychology, Master of Arts," he continued, not bothering to try and make it look like an effort to remember her CV. "I went there too, you know."

She displayed a faint sigh, letting him know she couldn't care less.

"Master of Arts in law, Fletcher School, Tufts University, Bachelor of Arts in history," he kept on citing from her file, "Harvard." He gave her a thoughtful look. "Worked hard, huh?"

She started to lose interest. And for a moment she wondered if he actually really wasn't out for anything in particular.

"Can I ask you a question? How the hell did you end up at CTU? I mean, RAND, the National Security Council - can't have been easy to get in there. And then you become a federal agent in one of the least known agencies this country has?" He looked at her as if he really expected an answer. As if he really was curious. "I mean, if I didn't miss something here it was your free decision."

She lowered her gaze, feeling the tiredness pressing on her eyelids. Her own, free decision. Yeah, she probably should have stayed at RAND, doing research and development analysis. Or she should have gone back to university, an a academic career, lecturing...

She had thought about it but it hadn't seemed to suit her. _It didn't. It still wouldn't._ She would make the same choices all over again. And the NSC, sure, it had been exciting at first. But in the end it had led her here just as much as Division or CTU.

She met his eyes again, knowing where he was going.

"If I had your potentialities, I wouldn't be here now," he sighed and leaned further back, looking up to the ceiling now, making an expression as if he really regretted not having had her options. "The job is disturbing, the payment is lousy. Considering the puny private life though, it doesn't matter, I guess."

He looked at her again, his hands still at the back of his head.

"Just out of curiosity: if you had gotten away, you wouldn't have to worry about money anymore, right?"

She had been sure it would be either the money or her private life he would pick up on. She wondered when he would start asking her about Jack.

"Oh, come on," he exclaimed with a helpless gesture. "No harm in telling me. I know you're tired and exhausted and you think that once you start talking, you run into the danger of saying something you don't wanna say and give something away you don't want them to know." He gave her a sympathetic look. "But you will have to break your silence eventually. They'll make you. They always do." Another little pause to give his words time to sink in. "I know how many interrogations you've witnessed, monitored or supervised. Hell, you know that stuff better than I do."

Of course, she did. He was right. Maybe she wouldn't tell them what they wanted to hear, maybe she wouldn't give anything away, but she would have to open her mouth eventually. Everyone did.

"See, you think it's easier if you hold out as long as possible, right?" he stated as if he wanted to debate a theory with her. "But isn't it just getting harder? I mean, you must be holding back so much. I know the kinds of amateurs they sent in here before they got a hold of me. You gotta be annoyed, irritated, angry maybe. With your background you deserve better than that, right?" He leaned forward now, laying his elbows on the table, folding his hands. "Now, once you start talking, isn't the risk of revealing something just getting higher? I mean, the more there is you don't wanna say, the harder it gets to separate between what is really important and what you could say without any harm for yourself."

She thought about it for a second. But she knew he was just trying to confuse her. He knew how tired she was. Getting her to question her strategy was smart but she wouldn't fall for it. She remained silent, knowing her expression hadn't given away that she had been doubting for a second. Not doubting, just considering. Maybe he wouldn't succeed but he knew what he was doing. He knew her analytical mind wouldn't just pass over his words. He was good.

She sighed soundlessly and lowered her gaze once again. She understood, of course, what he was doing. He was feeling her up. Exploring the ground for the next interrogator, who ever that would be. Who did they think could get to her? And how?

For a second she wondered what Jack was doing. Under different circumstances he would be the obvious choice. But now - would they just send him home? Had they already let him go? Normally, he would have to be debriefed as soon as possible but in regard of his loss it was more than likely they would make an exception. Would they at least have someone keeping an eye on him? He wasn't stupid. It wouldn't take him long to figure out where they had brought her. Chappelle had probably made sure he couldn't get anywhere near her but...Jack had made a new friend today. A friend who had already used his influence once to supersede Chappelle. And that even before Jack had saved his life. What if Jack could get Palmer to...

She shook her head inwardly. She was getting paranoid. Palmer was so self-righteous in his moral beliefs, he would never help Jack to get to her. It had to be clear even to him that there was only one thing Jack could be interested in. He certainly wouldn't ask her anything. There was enough she could tell him if her life depended on it but it wasn't her knowledge or the identity of her employer that had saved her back at CTU. She knew that much. And the one thing that had saved her down in the garage, what she had seen in Jack's eyes – it would never save her again.

Wouldn't he be with Kim now? After all, she had just lost her mother.

"I see I've already lost your interest."

She didn't even look up, closing her eyes instead for a moment, squeezing them shut and opening them again, trying to clear her vision. She knew it was a sign of weakness but who was she kidding? It was obvious what state she was in. And just like more than twelve hours ago, in the holding room at CTU, she felt like getting up and walking around, stretching to fight the tiredness out of her body and her mind. Only that this time she was restrained to the chair.

_At least you are not depending on what happens next door_. She tried to think positively. This time she didn't have to hope Tony would hold out long enough for Jack to call in or… Sitting there all by herself, helpless, powerless, she had known he would talk eventually. He surely had been committed not to, but he would have turned her in. To save his job, his career, his future. He would have hated himself for hanging her out to dry but he wouldn't have taken the risk. She couldn't blame him. If there was one thing Alberta Green was really good at, it was making an impression on people. She hadn't had any proof of course, not against Tony, as there never was any. And if he had only thought it through, he would have come to the same conclusion. He had always been safe, the only job at stake being Nina's. But she could imagine how Alberta had put the screws on him. And somewhere along the way it had probably mattered as well that Tony had thought she was doing all this to help Jack. And not just as a friend.

_Tony._ She wondered how he was holding up, now that… But she had other things to think about. This time she was in control.

"Been a long day, huh?" he asked and snapped her back into the now and there. "I can imagine it's been a tough ride for you. All the ups and downs, keeping your stories straight, pretending to do your job while following your own agenda." He almost looked impressed. "Must have been a piece of work."

_It surely was_. It had taken her half of the day to figure out what was going on. And ups and downs? There had been a good many of those. When Jack had taken her out of CTU, his gun at her - the despair in his eyes when he had told her it was her or Teri and Kim. She had noticed the flak jacket, of course, but suddenly she hadn't been too sure anymore if he had put it on her on purpose. And it wouldn't protect her if he really wanted to kill her. Then when they had found out about Jamey, trying to figure out who Gaines was and why he had wanted Jack to kill her, how she had ended up in the middle of all this. And once she had gotten her orders, finally been told what was expected of her, things had only gotten more and more out of control.

"Guess it didn't get any easier when Jamey Farrel got exposed."

Jamey. _Of course. They must still think I recruited her. _Her eyes when she had realized that she was done. That Tony was right, that Gaines would go after her and eventually her son. That she was screwed either way. _Nina, please._ Her tears. Her begging. _Please, Nina._ She had helped her, hadn't she? She had done the best she could. Kyle would be safe.

She looked up to him again, still maintaining her indifferent expression, still not giving anything away. She knew what he was doing. Feeding her mind these little appetizers, making her go through everything that had happened. He was tiring her out. They probably didn't expect him to get anything substantial out of her but he was wearing her down. Hoping to get at least a glimpse of a weakness that could be used against her later. He would bring up other names as well, mention other facts, events, hoping she would react at some point. She was so tired and it was so easy to follow his lead, pick up on the catch words he gave her. Subtle, cunning, never touching the issue too obviously. Partly because she might see what he was up to, partly because he had to be careful not to reveal to her how much they had or hadn't figured out yet. He was trying to manipulate her. And it was so easy to let her mind drift off and the thoughts just flow through her conscience. But sooner or later he would hit a nerve. Or at least he would think he had. Sooner or later she wouldn't just think along the path he directed her on. She would show an emotion, object to something he said, voice her thoughts. That was what he was waiting for.

She had to stop thinking about it. At least she couldn't afford to attach any feelings to it. The moment they knew she had regrets or second thoughts, that she was worried about something or even felt the merest hint of guilt, they would use it against her. She couldn't let that happen. Keeping her mouth shut was still her best option. There was a good chance that her employer would send someone to take care of her right away, as long as he could still get to her. But in that case talking wouldn't keep her safe either. Her best chance was to hope that she would be trusted. Not a good chance exactly. Trust wasn't a highly prized attribute in her line of work, leverage weighing much heavier. But for the moment she had no intention of using hers.

"Looked pretty nasty to me when you got rid off her."

She didn't understand and frowned. Seeing the hesitation in her face, he had to feel some satisfaction. Finally some reaction. But now it was his turn not to let it show.

"I saw the footage from the surveillance camera," he explained after a while, realizing she wasn't gonna ask.

She tried to fathom the implications of his words while reminding herself to be careful now.

_The surveillance camera. The surveillance camera in ITS of course. _So she had missed something in the rush. They had proof against her for that as well. But what difference did it make. The murder count against Jamey was the least of her worries. It wasn't what would bring her down.

What had brought her down was Drazen. She had never had a choice whether to help him or not but she should never have agreed to telling Jack that Kim was dead. She had known right away that it was too risky, but she hadn't seen any point in trying to explain to Drazen what psychological impact such a message would have on Jack, not to mention what it might cause him to do. Trying to explain that he was only more dangerous if he felt that he had nothing to lose anymore. Instead she had simply hoped Drazen would keep his promise and kill Jack. It would have been a clean solution.

But Drazen had failed. And what of course ultimately had brought her down was the fact that she hadn't made it out of the car park in time. A minute would have been enough, thirty seconds maybe for Jack to be delayed. Or if he had pulled into the garage a few seconds earlier, if she had caught sight of him before starting the car. She could have duck down, waited for him to get out of the way or even until he was out of the car. She could have shot him herself or used the few seconds it would take him to find the dead guard and figure out she had already gotten past him.

"Did you simply not know there was one or did you forget it in all the fuss? Or did you not care?"

_Just a few seconds_, she thought, almost amused. In the end what really had brought her down was bad luck. Nothing more, nothing less. _Just bad luck_.

"Man, that was a lot of blood."

He was prying, not willing to let it go yet. Did he believe he had hit a nerve by bringing up Jamey?

She was tempted to lift her chin up and stare right back into his eyes, letting him know that she knew, that she was seeing through his little tactic. But she was too tired and just let her gaze wander off, travel through the room and down on the table. D_on't waste energy on defying him. _

"I bet killing Teri was easier," he moved on. Still trying to sound unmoved, bored, casual. But she could tell by the way he said her name that it wasn't coming that easy. "I mean, shooting someone seems like...less personal, isn't it? You don't get your hands dirty, you don't even have to be close to the other person. You just twitch your finger and that's it." But he didn't know Teri. He was talking about a complete stranger, using her first name because he wanted Nina to anticipate something with it. If he had said Mrs. Bauer or the wife of your boss - it would have been easier for her to dismiss it, emotionally detach herself. From her crime, from her victim. But this way he could be sure Teri's face would surface in her mind.

The way she had stared at her when she had understood. Teri had defied her. She hadn't resisted or fought her but the look in her eyes, the expression on her face - she had been afraid but she had been angry as well. Just giving her that impeaching look, glaring at her. As if she wanted to say: _how could you? _Full of contempt. _He trusted you. We trusted you._

She became beware of his gaze on her again. His scrutinizing eyes on her face, trying to figure out if she responded, how.

She sighed scornfully. Teri should have been relieved, shouldn't she? After all, there had been no reason for her anymore to fear Nina could steal her precious husband, apparently her sole concern the second she had learned that Kim and Jack were safe. But maybe that had been the problem. Finding out that Jack had been seeing her, his partner, the woman he still saw at work every single day had hit Teri hard. But also knowing that Jack had chosen his family over Nina had probably relieved her. And assured her enough to show some generosity and 'forgive' her. _The past is the past. I have nothing but respect for you. _Right. But realizing that Jack had slept with the enemy, that everything that had happened to her and Kimberly was even more Jack's fault than she had already thought - maybe that was why Teri had seemed rather angry than afraid. _Maybe I saved you some trouble, Jack. _

She closed her eyes. No. Teri hadn't blamed Jack. _Maybe herself, for trusting you_. For thanking her for saving their lives. For actually starting to like her over these last few hours. And she had been angry because it had been no one else but Nina who had almost gotten her and Kimberly killed. No one else but her who had betrayed them all, gained their trust and sold them out.

_It was you. Wasn't it?_

Nina's eyelids felt like lead again and her vision became blurry. For a moment she tried to keep her eyes open, fight, keep it together. _Why again?_ Sleep seemed like such a release. If she could only... .

"Hey."

She heard him, his voice calm, not the least bit aggressive, not yelling at all. But she didn't care. Kept her eyes closed and felt herself drifting off.

"Hey." Again. "Nina." And she jerked her head up to stare at... But it was just him. For a second she had thought… But it was just her tired, worn out mind playing tricks on her.

Still, there was something strange in the way he used her first name. As if… It seemed to come easy. Easier than Teri's or Jamey's names earlier. But then again, there was nothing strange about that. He had studied her file, probably watched her for some time before walking in, and if she was right then it was his job to connect with her, get into her mind, establish some sort of bond, even if only for a short while. She knew what it took to deal with that.

"Sorry," he said, looking back at her, slightly knitting his brows. "I can't let you sleep."

She tilted her head back and to the sides, trying to stretch her tensed muscles while taking a deep breath. What time could it be? She had reached her lowest point now, but it would pass. She would feel better again. Soon. At least for a while.

She had to keep her mind focused. On anything but his voice, anything but his words. On everything but what he wanted her to focus on.

"So, Jack," he sighed, leaning back in his chair again. "Just between you and me - is there anything to those rumors?"

_Treason. A breach of allegiance to one's government, usually committed through levying war against such government or by giving aid or comfort to the enemy_, she cited in her head._The act of treason requires the disclosure of government security secrets to other countries, friendly or unfriendly, when the information could cause harm to American security._

"You really slept with him?"

_A person commits the crime of treason if he or she is spying for a foreign power or doing damage to the government's operation and its agencies, particularly those involved in security. _

"And what was that other guy's name...Almeida...?"

_Treason is a crime under federal and some state laws._ She sighed. It wasn't like she hadn't been perfectly aware of what she was doing.

"Tony?"

And of the consequences. _Treason is made a high crime, punishable by death, under federal law by Article III, section 3 of the U.S. Constitution._

"Seems you had them all under control."

_No person shall be convicted of treason, unless on the testimony of two witnesses to the same overt act, or on confession in open court. _She almost smiled. Not quite likely. Neither the confession nor the open court. But it wouldn't get them into any trouble to come up with the necessary evidence. She had destroyed everything that led to her employer but besides the video footage of the surveillance cameras, the dead guards and her failed attempt to run, she had carried enough proof on her to make a case against herself. The disc.

"But then it didn't really work out in the end, huh?"

She met his eyes again. No, it hadn't. She had done her best but it just hadn't been enough. And it was no consolation at all that it hadn't even been her fault.

"So what do you think is gonna happen to you now?"

She would have to play her cards smart. Disregarding the problem with her employer for a moment, she would try to hold out and await her sentence. Not that she was keen on federal prison but ironically enough it was the only place where she would be safe for the time being. Safe from her employer, from Jack, from whoever else might have an interest in seeing her dead. And if she was patient and waited for her time to come, she would find a way to get herself out of this situation. With everything she knew - time was on her side.

Only if they were really gonna send her on death row, she would have no choice but to disclose some of her knowledge. Important enough for them to offer her something in return but of course harmless enough not to venture her own life. If she wanted to benefit from any deal, she would have to make sure she'd live through it. But maybe it wouldn't be necessary. Maybe it would just be enough to let them know she did know something. Too much to kill her, too important to miss.

She knew where that would get her of course. They wouldn't just lock her up and wait. The interrogations would continue and her interrogators would become more 'insistent'. And she wasn't sure if she was up for that. She was trained to withstand torture but she knew there was only so much she could take until she would reach her breaking point. _Everybody breaks._

Her training. She suppressed another smile. She had been trained, prepared for this situation. Not by CTU or Division of course. Her office job didn't exactly require those skills. But her employer had taken care of it and she still remembered the details about her fake vacation that fall two years ago. The places she'd never been to, the hotels she had never stayed in, the trip across country she had never made. Nice memories compared to where she really had been.

"...murder charge...", she picked up two words. Of course he was still talking to her. She saw his lips moving, heard his voice, felt it flowing into her head, but it was just passing through. She wasn't really listening.

_Murder is the unlawful killing of another human being with premeditated intent or malice aforethought. _

Killing Jamey had been premeditated. She had have enough time to make a conscious decision, to realize there was no other way out. But malice? _Malice aforethought_. She wondered if the word was appropriate.

_A person commits the crime of murder if he, with intent, causes the death of another person, or under circumstances manifests extreme indifference to human life. _

Had she manifested extreme indifference to human life? Probably.

_Engages in conduct which creates a grave risk of death to a person other than himself, and thereby causes the death of another person. _

She certainly had created a grave risk of death to Teri and Kim when she had helped the Drazens to get to them again at the safe house.

_Murder may also be committed in the course of and in furtherance of the crime that is committed or attempted to commit, or in immediate flight there from._

Had she really killed Teri in premeditation? Had she really thought it through? Or had she actually just panicked with the alarm going off and knowing Jack was on his way and that he would piece it together once Teri mentioned Germany. Legally the answer was clear, but she wondered.

_In the State of California, murder is the unlawful killing of a human being, or a fetus, with malice aforethought._

The fetus...

If Jack knew? Probably. Teri had been so excited when she had told her. And then Jack had called a little later. Of course she had told him. He would be even more devastated. If that was possible.

Her eyes fell shut again and she quickly opened them before her head could drop down. They would have to let her sleep eventually. It would soon feel better. It would all get better.

She lingered in the thought and only after a while she noticed that it was quiet. He was quiet.

Looking up, she met his eyes and wasn't sure how to interpret the expression she saw on his face. Had he given up? Or was he just considering a change of tactics? A different approach? Or was he thinking about all the things he would rather do than being stuck here with her?

And why was he here in the first place? She was absolutely positive she had never seen the guy before, so, either he was a freshman or an outsider. He was referring to 'them' all the time which could be a sign for the latter one but it could also be on purpose. To make him seem neutral and less of an enemy. However, if he was an outsider, he wasn't here to stall.

The way he had been treating her the entire time - how long had he been sitting there? -, it almost had something respectful. But she knew, of course, that it was just an attempt to make her relax a little. Not seeing him as the enemy. Not create a hostile atmosphere. Right now, he wasn't disgusted by her or her actions because he couldn't afford to be. He had to try and see things through her eyes, think like her, feel like her. _Well, sorry. Not much there to feel. _Despising her would have to wait until later and even then it would come in a lesser degree. Just like a doctor who had seen too many smashed bodies to still be touched by it in the same way everyone else would, he had probably studied and analyzed too many twisted minds to still be appalled by them like normal people would. It was a gradual, step-by-step change. Slowly at first, and then suddenly you were right in the middle of it and the part of you that reacted with natural aversion and detestation just...faded. Dwindled. It was still there of course, and sometimes it would hit you when you least expected it. At other times it wouldn't come at all no matter how much you wanted it to. Funny how certain things could still disgust her while others couldn't.

It was of course different for everyone and he was sitting at the other side of the table for a reason.

"Not afraid of anything, are you?" he asked, almost smiling at her.

Afraid? She had been afraid earlier. Running down the corridor, shooting the first guard, getting inside the elevator and into the garage, she had felt her heart beating faster, the adrenaline pounding through her veins. Not the kind of fear that could slow you down, paralyze you and be your worst enemy but the kind of fear that told her she was in trouble and things had taken a bad turn. The kind of fear that was her friend, made her brain work even quicker.

She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut for a second, again bending her head forward and backward, stretching her muscles, rolling her shoulders in their joints. _Stay focused. _

"All right, I think we're through here." He tilted his head a little, definitely smiling now. "So what does it take?" he asked playfully. "To make you talk? Say anything? One word?" He was almost cute. "Come on," he exclaimed, waving his hand through the air. "I'll feel really stupid if I have to walk out now and didn't even hear your voice."

She had to struggle not to frown. What was this? She suddenly felt 16 again, being asked out on a date. He was young. She had thought so when he had entered the room. And thought he either had to be really good or Division was shorthanded for the night. Of those two options, she had dismissed the latter one a while ago.

He sighed, folding his hands together and pulling a face. "Alright. You win." He glanced at his wristwatch. "Surely could have done something better with my time but hey - at least I'm getting paid for this." He winked at her. "Guess I'm gonna go home now, get some sleep."

He got up and moved his chair closer to the table, making a point that he was done, and her eyes followed him for a few steps on his way to the door until he slipped out of her field of vision. Too tired to turn her head, she let her gaze wonder back and then closed her eyes. _Sleep._ It seemed like a promise of heaven.

"I wonder what Jack's doing now."

She abruptly opened her eyes, staring at the table in front of her for a second before she noticed he had turned around again and was watching her reaction. Her first impulse was to close her eyes again, turn away, but it would be admitting she had something to hide. That mentioning Jack had finally triggered something in her.

She took her time to lift her chin a little bit, stem her eyelids against the lead that seemed to lie upon them, turning her head around to him slowly, meeting his gaze. Her expression blank, displaying nothing but exhaustion.

He sneered. Standing there and looking down at her, he sneered. And took a few steps towards her again.

"Ever wondered who's gonna come in here after me?"

She knew it was just a last effort to pry a reaction out of her. But she couldn't stop the slight note of terror emerging in her mind.

_They would never let him in here. _They couldn't. They would never find out anything if they let Jack kill her. _We need her alive._ Mason had said it himself.

He was bluffing, of course, playing on a hunch probably. She hinted a sneer as well and turned her head away. Had she reacted in any way at his words? She didn't think so but given her condition, she couldn't be sure her features – and her entire body really - were still obeying her mind.

"They'll break you." He shoved his hands into his pockets, the amused expression still on his face. "You know that, don't you?"

She kept her gaze at the table in front of her, trying to maintain a bored expression.

"I mean, as impressing as this silent treatment number is - where do you think it'll get you?"

He was trying to break her. When she had already thought he was giving up. She had let her guard down too early.

"Let me tell you what I think." He moved up and sat down on the corner of the table. "I think right now, you think if you just keep your mouth shut, you'll get away because you know too much to get death penalty. And you think if you can resist long enough, you might be able to cut yourself some sort of deal. Am I right?"

Should she be impressed because he had figured that out?

"Someone with your intelligence, your expertise, your experience - you think you're invincible? You think they've got nothing to work with, nothing to use against you?"

She looked up at him, displaying annoyance and scorn she didn't really feel. She knew he was having a point. She knew what was gonna come to her.

He shrugged. "We'll see about that. But I can promise you one thing. At some point," he said, his voice lower now and almost a whisper, "you'll wish Jack had pulled that trigger." He nodded to underline his remark and smiled confidently whilst she tried not to let him see that she was afraid he could be right.

He stared at her a moment longer before he got up. "You'll remember my words."

With a last sneer, he turned around and left, and this time she waited until the door had closed behind him before she closed her eyes and tried to relax. _You'll wish Jack had pulled that trigger. _Oh, she would wish for a lot of things but never for that. She would stick to her plan and one day it would pay off.

But it was hard to lose the image of Jack's finger clenched around the trigger, the muzzle of his gun not even an inch away from her face.


	3. Part 1 II

_I apologize for the split, but some parts are just too long. Plus, more updates for you._

_Now, where were we..._

**Part 1 II**

* * *

¤¤¤

Nick closed the door behind him and took a few steps to sit down on one of the chairs, glancing through the mirror first and then letting his gaze wander to the close-up on the monitor.

"So? What do you think?"

He stared at her for a long moment before he turned to his superior.

"I think psychology alone won't get us anywhere. She knows the game, all the moves. She knew exactly what I was doing."

As expected, his new boss took it without batting an eyelid. He didn't know him too well yet, after all, he wasn't supposed to start working until next week. They had called him in a few hours ago, but he already had a pretty good idea about what kind of person Ryan Chappelle was. And he wasn't as tough as he made everyone believe. Then again – who was?

"So your recommendation would be?"

_Well, maybe she is_, he thought to himself, looking at the screen again.

"How fast do you need her to talk?"

"The sooner we find out what she knows the better, but we can't see an acute threat at this point. However, we need to know her contacts, what kind of intel she has, so we can be sure who she's working for."

He nodded and contemplated the options.

"Well, I think it's safe to assume that it's not Drazen."

"Why?" Chappelle asked.

"He's dead, and so are his sons if I didn't miss anything in this report." He lifted the file in front of him and let it drop back on the table. "My guess is she's not talking because she believes whoever she works for will come after her. So it has to be someone who's still very much alive."

"And powerful enough to get to her while she's in our custody?"

He heard the skepticism in Chappelle's voice.

"Doesn't matter," he replied. "As long as she believes it, she won't talk. Unless you go all the way."

"I understand." Chappelle got up. "Well, we've got some time left before she's going to be sentenced."

"What do you think it'll be?" he asked, still not taking his eyes off the monitor.

"That's for others to decide and I won't speculate about it."

He felt Chappelle moving to turn around and stopped him.

"She worked for you, didn't she?"

Chappelle gave him a disapproving look, as if he was offended that he dared to ask his superior such a question. But then his eyes wandered off to the mirror as well and he stared through it for a few seconds.

"Yes."

_If anyone had told you this was gonna happen, would you have believed it?_ The question was on Nick's mind, but he got his answer when he saw the expression on Chappelle's face.

"Anything else?" his superior asked curtly.

Nick hesitated for a second.

"If you want her to talk, you'll have to scare her. Properly. And as far as I could see, there's only one thing she's afraid of."

"And what's that?"

"Jack Bauer."

Chappelle sneered. "She killed his wife, and from what I heard from George Mason, Bauer was already close to killing her before he was aware of that detail. I would be afraid too if I was her."

It was silent for a moment.

"Use it," Nick suggested and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head.

"What?" Chappelle asked as if to make sure he had understood him correctly.

"Use it," he repeated. "Don't let him kill her but make her believe he will."

"Sure. There's only one problem. I know Bauer too. You obviously don't. The man's not exactly easy to control. If we let him in here, she's dead for real. And that's not what we want."

He didn't object. Chappelle was right. He didn't know Bauer. Reading through the file and looking into the events of the day, he had concentrated on Nina Myers.

"You want to try again?"

Nick shook his head. "No. Let her get some rest. Think about it. Probaby won't change her mind but you never know."

Chappelle nodded and went for the door, but the handle was pressed down before he could reach it.

"Ryan," a woman said as she entered, looking at Chappelle first and then at Nick. Another new face.

"Alberta," Chappelle replied without enthusiasm. "What can I do for you?" _What can I do to get you out of my face_, was more what it sounded like.

"I want to talk to her."

Nick examined her quickly. There was something about her that made him want to get up, click his heals, and salute. She seemed determined and intent on getting things her way. He let his gaze wander to Chappelle, a bit curious to see his reaction. But his superior just glanced at his wristwatch and seemed to shrug his shoulders.

"Fine. Nick here did the profiling," he said with a nod in his direction. "Work with him."

"I don't think I'll need a profile," she objected coldly, and Nick tried to remember at what point he had come across her name in the file on his table.

Right. She had been called in some time around noon, replacing Bauer while he had been on the run. As acting head of CTU, she had been Nina Myers superior for a few hours.

"Work with him," Chappelle insisted tiredly and turned his head around. "It's your call, Nick."

He nodded and watched his superior walking out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Feeling Alberta Green staring at him, he met her eyes. Her turn to examine him, looking him up and down frankly, obviously trying to figure out if Chappelle really had that much faith in him or was just putting an obstacle in her way.

"Just so we are clear: I don't think you can tell me anything about Nina Myers that I don't already know. But I'm willing to let you try."

Her voice was low and just a bit gravelly, her pronunciation clear and exact. If there hadn't been this touch of arrogance and self-assertion, he would have liked it.

He gave her a heads-up anyway, and she listened without interrupting, not making any remarks. Only when he was finished did she state her own assessment. He dismissed it, but it would be interesting to watch the woman next door hearing it.

"You worked with her?" he asked pointedly.

"Correct."

She left it at that, not giving any further explanations but he didn't need anything else. There was some history between the two women, and something told him the recent clash about Jack Bauer's whereabouts hadn't been their first one.

"Well, she's all yours then. I'll watch if you don't mind." It wasn't a question of course.

"Go ahead," Green replied icily and walked to the door that led to the interrogation room. He focused on the monitor and smiled. He doubted that she would get any substantial results but maybe she would succeed where he had failed and get her adversary to finally break her silence. It was worth a shot, and it was worth staying around to watch. Maybe Green would trigger a reaction in Myers and that way give him something he could use. He couldn't claim that he had learnt much from talking to her that he hadn't already known from studying the files, but if Green could accomplish what he hadn't been able to pull off, he wouldn't mind at all.

Leaning forward in his chair, Nick focused his attention on the monitor showing the small woman in her chair. Maybe he wasn't done with her just yet.

¤¤¤

The sound of the door startled her and Nina looked up. She didn't even try to hide her surprise when she saw Alberta Green walk in. _You gotta be joking_, she thought. _This is who you think can break me? _She smiled and straightened up in her chair, feeling some of her strength coming back to her. This could be interesting.

Alberta took her seat across the table, eyeing her with the usual expression on her face. Just a bit too self-assured, a bit too arrogant. Alberta was working hard and she did a good job most of the time, but she would never understand that it was her attitude that often set her back. Neither superiors nor subordinates appreciated her and for the time being there was probably no one less popular at Division than Alberta Green. Well, of course, that was about to change.

"I underestimated you, Nina. I give you that," Alberta stated after taking some time to look her up and down, displaying the hint of a condescending smile. "I didn't think you had the dignity to get over Jack, let alone the guts to stand up to him. But you turning on him - that was unexpected."

She had her legs crossed, her hands loosely folded, resting in her lap, and made the impression that she was perfectly comfortable in her position.

"From what I hear he's devastated. They couldn't get him away from his dead wife's body until his daughter showed up," she added, obviously trying to trigger a reaction. "What was her name?" It was a lame attempt.

_Why are you here, Alberta? This really isn't your specialty._

"Apparently they had to sedate her."

Nina tilted her head, not paying attention to what was being said. No one at Division could seriously think that... .

Again Nina didn't bother to hide her amusement when she realized what she should have known all along. No one was expecting anything from Alberta. For whatever reason she was here, she was not important. And there was no one else to come after her.

"You find that amusing?" Alberta's eyebrows were slightly raised. "You want to tell me you don't care? Try harder, Nina."

Nina frowned, still a bit amused. She had an idea this was about to become entertaining.

"You may have fooled everybody else with this charade, but not me. As I had already told you: I can detect BS. And this has BS written all over it."

Nina allowed herself to break into a smile, turning her head and letting her gaze wander around, resting it on the mirror for a second. She wondered who was watching her, watching Alberta, listening to what she was so eager to share.

"You want to tell me this whole letting-Jack-screw-you-while-he-was-bored-with-his-wife was just a part of the plan? All the times you put your job on the line while covering for him, the way you successfully ruined your own reputation, the office-flirting, the rebound-thing with Tony – everything just an act, just to deepen your cover? Come on, Nina, how credible or how likely is that? What would have happened if you had really lost your position? If Tony had talked before Jack called in?" Alberta smiled widely. "I don't think your 'employer' would have appreciated that."

Just the way she emphasized the word 'employer' was enough to tell Nina where Alberta was going with this. If it hadn't been obvious enough already. She considered playing along, just for the satisfaction of fooling Alberta one more time. But it wasn't worth the risk.

And she had to admit a part of her didn't want to give Alberta the satisfaction of thinking she was right. She knew she shouldn't care but she was only human.

_Human. Indifferent to human life._

"So why would you take all those risks if it wasn't indeed for Jack," Alberta continued. "For your naïve belief in that man. I've always agreed with George: what did you see in him?"

_Alberta._ _Interesting enough you and George have been discussing this_.

"But I guess you woke up one day wondering that yourself. And I would imagine it was a painful realization. What you let him do to you. Actually it's quite understandable that you wanted some payback."

_Trying to sympathize, Alberta? Are we talking woman-to-woman now? Reassuring me I'm just a victim who fought back and went too far? _Nina couldn't hold back the smile even if she had wanted to. _You want to use psychology on me? _She shook her head inwardly.

"I guess he paid all he could. I hear he claims his wife was pregnant. Did you know that?"

This was it. This was the moment she had to act if she wanted to play Alberta. All it would take was showing a hint of an emotion, act a little surprised and in shock or guilty. Not too openly, it had to look like she was trying to hide it. Again she felt the temptation, embracing the distraction from the core of the issue, but again she reminded herself that it wasn't worth the trouble it could cause. She remained indifferent.

Alberta leaned forward, placing her hands on the table, obviously disappointed over the lack of response on Nina's part.

"You can act cool all you want, Nina. Maybe you can fool those so-called experts with your little performance but I know you better than that and I can tell a lie when I see one. This wasn't about some ominous employer or you being a deep-undercover mole."

Nina smiled but closed her eyes, trying to hold on to the thought that had just crossed her mind. But it was getting harder again to concentrate. _Careful_. Something about Alberta's words had alarmed her.

"This was about Jack rejecting you and going back to his wife. At some point it was too much for you to put up with anymore, and when the Drazens made their offer you accepted, seeing a chance for payback. You wanted Jack to suffer, and I would say you've done that pretty well. And now you're seeing a chance to get off, thinking if you can make the right people believe there is someone behind all this, you can get away with it. Or maybe you're simply embarrassed about your real motives."

Still keeping her eyes closed and the sneer on her face, Nina reconsidered. Either Alberta really believed all this or… She could only hope no one would be convinced by this argument. Otherwise, she would be in trouble. She couldn't confirm that there really was someone behind her any more than she already had, but she needed them to assume there was for obvious reasons.

Looking up again, she tried to fathom if Alberta was using this fact against her. _Did I underestimate you?_

"I'm not sure you've thought this through, Nina, so let me help you to see things clearly." Emphasizing her words with a little gesture, Alberta leaned forward. "You're not doing yourself a favor by making things look worse than they are. You're in deep trouble enough as it is. You will be charged with murder and treason, and trust me – this is not going to be a carrots and sticks game. You're not going to get anything out of this. I'll personally see to that."

_Don't underestimate my influence_, Nina almost expected her to say, just like she had told her once, a couple of years ago.

"Although I don't think I'll even bother. Eventually everybody will see this for what it really is."

She still didn't know what to think. Was Alberta simply not able to admit that she had been wrong about her? That she had been fooled just like everybody else? Should, could she be that unprofessional about the whole thing? Or was she actually trying to play her, to turn the tables on her, and make her reveal more than she intended to. Not that she would. She wasn't worried enough. But she was curious.

Now she tilted her head and had a remark on her lips. But she still didn't want to start talking and - most of all - she didn't want to reward Alberta like that. It would be an insult to all her other interrogators and to herself to break her silence now of all times.

¤¤¤

Nick folded his hands behind his head and sank back in his chair.

From what he could tell Nina Myers was everything but a nutcase. She hadn't freaked out about an affair with her boss, she hadn't killed and betrayed because she was heartbroken. But there were some things about her he couldn't piece together. Not yet.

He opened the folder in front of him and flipped through the file, preliminary reports, debriefs and statements, reading some passages again here and there. Then he put them back on the table and frowned. She indeed seemed to have taken a lot of risks to cover for her boss in the past. Nick had a hard time believing that she had done it because she was in love, but Alberta Green had a point. By risking her own position like that, Myers had either made an already dangerous game even riskier or her priority had always been to keep Jack Bauer in his position. For a long time already in that case. But why? How long had this been planned? And how long had she been part of it? If she really had been involved from the beginning, it was more likely that she was working for Drazen after all. Or that her employer was someone close to Drazen. Dammit, some things just didn't make sense.

In his statements earlier that day, Mason had been convinced that Bauer was up to something and that Myers was covering for him. Almeida had supported the first point but had been silent about the latter one. Obviously because he had been involved with Myers on a personal level. Then he had stated that she had played a crucial role in freeing Bauer's wife and daughter. But if she had been working for Drazen, why should she do that? Both Green and Mason had argued that Myers and Almeida were still in contact with Bauer and acting against direct orders, withholding information from their superiors. Almeida had denied that and still was, but what else could he do? By admitting the opposite now, he would only put himself in trouble. Bauer hadn't been debriefed yet, but Nick wondered if they would ever find out everything that had happened yesterday. Probably not, but without more information he wasn't gonna get anywhere. He couldn't do more than speculate.

_Well, why bother. _His job was done. He had made his evaluation and given his recommendations. Someone else would take it from here and sooner or later they would break her and find out if she really had another employer and if so, who he or she was. He was simply curious now but it would pass once he had another assignment to focus on. Nina Myers wasn't his problem anymore.


	4. Part 2

_Three months later…_

**

* * *

**

**d1**: **+ 3 months**

**d3**:** − 4 years, 3 months**

**

* * *

**

Part II: Getting Used To It

* * *

Nick nodded a quick greeting to the guard, slid his card through the security slot and stepped inside. As always, he immediately felt his stomach slightly rumble and thought he could smell the musty scent of sweat, blood and fear hanging in the air, although he knew it wasn't possible. In the beginning he had thought the deceptive feeling would go away once he had gotten used to the surroundings. But it never did. Instead he had gotten used to the feeling itself. Maybe it was because he wasn't here on a regular basis, maybe it would never feel any different even if he was to spend every single day down here. The truth was, he didn't want to find out. He could handle things as they were and although he didn't like coming here, it wasn't affecting his work. A work he hadn't done nearly as long as it felt like.

He walked down the corridor and wondered who the interrogator would be. He could only hope it wouldn't be Morrison again. Last time he had been put on a case with him, they had gotten into an argument. Nick had suggested a different approach which Morrison, of course, had ignored. Sometimes he wondered why he was even bothering. As long as he wasn't really supervising and vested with the necessary authority, his presence felt oblivious. Morrison obviously felt the same. _All you guys can do is sit there, and watch, and make your smartass remarks. But when it comes to the dirty part of the job, it's guys like me who have to do it. That's okay with me, son, I have done this for a long time. But what I really can't stand is when one of you' masterminds' wants to tell me how to do my job. _He had said a lot more but it all came down to the same general resentment, and Nick knew why these sentences had stuck with him.

If it was up to him, he would let Morrison and his colleagues do their job and stick to his own instead. _No problem. Be my guest. _But sometimes they were called in as well and then it was suddenly part of his job too. In his personal opinion it was nothing but a waste of time at this stage of an interrogation, but orders were orders and he would do the best he could.

_Fuck you, Morrison_, he thought and opened one of the doors to his left. _Go drown yourself if you can't stand it!_

He entered the room and noticed his mistake the moment he recognized Davis who had turned around on his seat in front of the monitors.

"Sturges. Wrong door?"

"Yeah. I guess either they have to put bigger numbers on them or I have to put on some glasses," he said jokily.

"Don't think they're gonna pay for either one."

"Probably not," Nick agreed. "Who do you got?" he asked and turned to one of the monitors.

"Myers," the older one sighed, taking a drag of his cigarette. "I'm still trying to figure out if this assignment is a reward or a punishment."

"She still hasn't given them anything?" Nick asked, taking a look at the other screens as well. He hadn't followed her case, only picked up some gossip here and there. It was still being talked about.

"Nothing," Davis growled. "Piece of scum is tough. Drugs didn't work so here we are."

Nick nodded silently, watching her bare body hanging limply in the restraints. Her interrogator had taken a few steps away from her, giving her a moment to reconsider.

"Her sentence is due and we're running out of time."

Of course. They couldn't put it off forever. At some point they had to decide whether she would be imprisoned or executed. In both cases the questioning couldn't proceed like this. They needed results now. Some people were probably sweating.

He watched her interrogator taking a step towards her again and wondered how long she would be able to stand this. He knew he would have surrendered a long time ago.

"Yeah," Davis remarked, "me too."

Nick glanced at him and frowned. Sometimes he wasn't sure whether he should be impressed or intimidated by the older one. He knew they were all good at what they were doing but he also knew that no one could read people's minds. When it came to Davis though, he wasn't so sure anymore.

He watched him lighting up a new cigarette, although the other one wasn't finished yet, and turned back to the monitors.

"Didn't you do the first evaluation?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, congratulations. Seems you were right."

"About what?" Nick asked over the voice of the interrogator coming through the speaker system.

"Well, I can only imagine one reason why she's still keeping her mouth shut."

_She's protecting her employer because she thinks that's the only way to protect herself. _

"Did you act on it?" he asked, knowing the answer already though.

"Of course. But you know how it is." Davis sighed. "They didn't listen to Chappelle either."

Again Nick threw a glance at him. Of course he knew.

He hadn't been particularly keen on her case but he had agreed with Chappelle. _We need an outsider on this. Someone who hasn't been working with her, who's not…familiar with her. _That was why he had been called in that day three months ago. And Chappelle had wanted him to stay on the case but obviously been superseded, for what reason ever. And now Davis was handling her. Davis who had been with Division for so many years now, there was no way he hadn't been working with or come across her at some point. And despite the open demonstration of contempt and despise in his voice and face when he glanced at the monitors – it was neither pleasure nor just a job for him. He certainly didn't feel sorry for her but it was still affecting him. How could it not when you knew the person on the other side of the wall. And when Davis looked at him again, he probably saw it in his eyes, saw that Nick knew. And didn't deny it. Talking like he didn't care wasn't an act for anybody else, he wasn't trying to pretend. It was just his way of dealing with it.

Their eyes stayed locked for a while, silence fell between them. Until the cries of pain from next door filled the room and they both turned their attention to the monitors again. But Nick soon looked away.

"You have to get used to it," Davis nearly whispered, as always when he gave a piece of advice, his voice soft now.

"I'm late," Nick said and avoided the other one's gaze, wishing he was right. _I wished getting used to it was the problem._

A last look at the monitors and he left, closed the door behind him and turned back to where he had come from. He had gone past the right door on his way, caught up in his thoughts about Morrison. Now, he had just reached it when a sound told him that someone was about to enter the corridor of Section C. Looking up he recognized Alberta Green. Being a person of good manners, he waited up to greet her.

"Nick."

"Alberta."

"I didn't know you were back on the case," she insinuated and reminded him right away why he still didn't like her.

"I'm not. I was just talking to Davis," he replied. _But who would have thought you are. _He wondered why she of all people had been put in charge of the investigation. Not only had she been involved in the events of the day, she also obviously had a past with Myers. He really couldn't see why the case was her responsibility now.

He watched her glancing at the door they were standing in front of. "Hirsh?"

"Yeah," he nodded and glanced at his wristwatch. About time he went inside. The interrogation was supposed to start in two minutes and he still needed to talk to the interrogator. Whoever it was.

"Tough case," she said with a businesslike expression but he could see the sneer in her eyes.

"Guess he's already waiting," he said and reached for the handle. "Alberta."

"Nick."

She walked past him and he glanced over his shoulder, shaking his head a last time. He still didn't get it, but he had to focus on his own assignment now. Checking his watch, he realized he just wanted to get out of here and see a part of the world that was still sane. But where would that be.

¤¤¤

She only realized she had passed out when she came to again. The pain kicked in immediately and made it meaningless that she was left to herself for a few seconds. She couldn't feel better at the small break.

_Well, that's not exactly the idea either. _He was just giving her body a moment to reorient. To make sure she would stay awake for a while and not pass out again right away. _He's not here to make you feel better._ Although he kept saying so.

_Don't listen_, she kept telling herself. _Don't listen, don't pay attention. _But it was hard. Not to listen to him was easy, but not to listen to that other voice inside her head, telling her to give them what they wanted, to make it stop, that was the hard part. Reminding herself that talking wasn't gonna get her anywhere, wasn't gonna get her anything. It would only make things worse. They hadn't offered her a deal yet and they clearly weren't going to. So if she told them now, she would only have blown her chances to maybe have some leverage one day to get herself out of here. Her employer wouldn't break her free but if she sold him out and ever managed to walk, he would be there and wait for her.

_Not if you help them to take him down_, the deceptive voice told her, but she was still strong enough to dismiss it. They wouldn't be able to take him down. At least not in time. She couldn't take the risk and it was not an option anyway. Taking one man down wasn't gonna save her.

The pain finally silenced all objections, getting too powerful to ignore it any longer or have any complex thought beside it. She didn't even try to tell herself she had gotten used to it. Maybe she had gotten used to the procedure, the humiliation and the techniques, but that didn't lessen the pain. The only thing that did was the sweet relief of passing out. But it never lasted long enough.

She felt him stepping closer again and tried to prepare herself, knowing it was pointless but trying nevertheless. What else could she do?

_Hold out_, she repeated what seemed to have become her mantra. _You can hold out. _

Her chin was lifted up to make her look at him but she avoided his eyes and looked past him, shaking all over, glancing at the cameras. _She's watching_, she reminded herself.

Alberta had been interrogating her personally until now, and in a way it had been the best thing that could have happened to her. Not to let the drugs break her under Alberta's watchful eyes had been a challenge Nina had taken up willingly and that had boosted her motivation and her resistance. Now Alberta wasn't in the room any longer, for obvious reasons. She wouldn't want to get her hands dirty like that. But Nina was sure she was watching.

_You really think you can take this much longer, Nina?_ Her condescending question the last time she had seen her.

Yes, she could. Because it couldn't last that much longer. She wouldn't get a proper trial, of course, no jury, no court. But they still had to have a hearing and sentence her, and it would have to be soon. Something in Alberta's appearance had told her. _She's worried_. Which could only mean one thing: she was running out of time. And now here they were.

"Wanna try again?" her interrogator asked, his hand still around her chin, and she let her gaze return to him, her entire body trembling, fear and pain clearly visible in her face.

_Hold out. Just a little longer, just a little while… _

"Just tell us what we need to know, and all of this will be over," he encouraged her, his voice a bit softer now, lower, almost a whisper. As if he was conspiring with her, making her an offer. "Why are you doing this to yourself? You're just delaying the inevitable. You can make it stop. It's all up to you. Just give us a name."

She closed her eyes again but he shook her to make her stay with him. "Come on. Do you really need this? You don't belong here. You didn't go through all the trouble to end up like this? Here? Don't you deserve better?"

She didn't answer, and he watched her a little longer before he lifted his arm, slowly, to make sure she would notice.

"If that's what you want," he said with a disappointed expression, and was about to inflict new pain on her when she stopped him.

"Alright."

He looked at her, frowning, maybe not sure what she had said. Her voice had been brittle, she had barely heard it herself, weak, a mere croaking. "Alright," she repeated, making an effort to clear her throat, swallowing with some trouble. "Alright," she breathed, mouthed, closing her eyes again.

Assuming she was about to faint, he let go off her and turned away. A moment later, she felt a water bottle being brought to her lips. Almost caring he held her head while he poured the liquid over her dry lips and into her mouth. _Of course he cares. _He wouldn't want her to pass out when she was just about to start talking.

But the bottle was gone again a moment later, and she licked her lips, opening her eyes and meeting his.

She mumbled something he couldn't possibly understand, causing him to lean closer.

"Thank you," she croaked, and the way he quickly removed his hand from the back of her head and blinked told her he was uncomfortable. It was probably the last thing he had expected her to say.

"You wanted to tell me something," he tried to pass it over but she had no such intention.

"It's different, isn't it?" she slurred her speech, causing him to respond the way she wanted him to."What?" he asked. She didn't care if it was out of curiosity or because he wondered if she was delirious.

"I bet it's harder to torture a woman," she whispered, studying his features.

He stared back at her, trying not to let her words affect him, maybe realizing his mistake. But it was too late. She could see it in his eyes and hurried to push him further.

"Does she know what you do for a living?"

It was a risk, nothing but a guess. But taken aback, he quickly glanced down at his hand. As if to check if there was something giving him away, a ring he might have forgotten to take off. There wasn't, of course, but his reaction had been clear enough and looking up again he clenched his teeth at the realization that he had just confirmed he was usually wearing one. _Married or engaged then_.

"Are you gonna tell her when you get home tonight?" Nina continued, knowing she could very well make things worse for herself. But what did she have to lose? "What you've done today? You think you can look at her, touch her without remembering?" she kept going, not sure how long her voice would bear, taking a moment though to hint a smile. "You think it's gonna be the same?"

Another mere guess. She didn't have to be the first woman he was torturing. But it still was the exception rather than standard and there was a good chance this was new to him.

His stare intensified and she wasn't sure if he was going to hit her or stagger back. If it was the latter, she might have gotten to him and maybe he would step down. If he was going to hit her though, she could only hope she had pissed him off properly and that he would send her into unconsciousness quickly. Mainly because she wasn't keen on taking more pain than she had to, but also because it would mean that he had lost his temper. And that would most likely get him relieved and replaced by someone else. Either way, it would buy her some time. Not much but it might just be worth the trouble.

"What's her name?" she asked, knowing it was crossing the last line there was, bringing his personal life into this room, into his work. And if she had been a guy, he would never have let it happen. So this really was new to him. Still waiting for his reaction, she wondered if that was gonna comfort either one of them.


	5. Part 3

_15 months later…_

**

* * *

**

**day 2**

**

* * *

**

Part III: What's Lying Ahead

* * *

"So, where are we going, guys?"

No answer of course this time either, but it couldn't hurt to ask. _You're being transferred for questioning_, was the only explanation she had been given so far, and it wasn't exactly of much help to the task offiguring out what this could be about. They had given up to ask about her employer some time ago, and she hadn't been interrogated since…not for quite some time. That she was being transferred now could only mean something had come up.

She took a deep breath and leaned back some more, relaxing her muscles and trying to find a position in which the shackles didn't cut into her ankles. Maybe this was the day she had been waiting for. Maybe some of the information and the knowledge she had kept to herself all this time would set her free today. _Free. _The mere thought was so comforting, she closed her eyes, stifling a smile of relief. How many nights had she lain awake, imagining how life could be, would be, once the day had come. Maybe she would know sooner than she had dared to hope.

_Don't get ahead of yourself now,_ she warned herself. After all, she didn't even know yet what this was all about. But the fact alone that they rather moved her than having someone come over to question her in prison spoke for itself, indicated urgency and – more importantly – a likeliness that they needed her for more than just answering a couple of questions. Maybe to activate one of her contacts, maybe even to go out in the field. She couldn'tfail to seethe irony: seven years with CTU and not once had she been sent on a field mission.Being the tech-nerd, she had pretty much been tied to her desk. Who would have thought that killing a few people and committing treason might just bethe thing to do to get her a field assignment.

Opening her eyes again, she noticed one of her guards scowling at her, obviously disliking the satisfied expression on her face. Unaffected, she held his gaze until he looked away, tilted her head back then and rested it against the cold steel. _Easy now, you don't know anything yet. _Correct, for the moment she was kept in the dark. But she would find out soon enough, and if she played her cards smart this might very well be the last time she took a ride in the back of a prison transporter.

They stopped and the doors opened, and she was helped out of the transporter, squinting against the bright sunlight. It took a moment for her eyes to get used to it but she would have recognized the place if she had been blindfolded.

_CTU. _

She had to take a deep breath. She had considered the possibility of this being their destination, still the blend of confusing emotions hit her somewhat unexpected now. And it didn't help that she immediately noticed the marks of destruction.

"Let's go," she heard a voice and was dragged towards the remains of the main entrance before she could start walking on her own. Realization hit her and confirmed what she had known all along even though she had indulged in the bliss of uncertainty. They had never told her and she had never asked, but deep down she had known of course. There weren't too many reasons for a terror group to get a hold of the schematics of a federal agency, especially not if it was a counterterrorism unit.

They reached the entrance and she recognized one of the guards, a gash on his forehead and blood stains on his white shirt bespeaking he had already been on duty when the explosion had hit the building. She wondered who else had been in there. But only for a second. This was not the time.

They walked inside, turned around the corner and she got a full view of the floor and the level of destruction. And catching sight of the first familiar faces, she took a last deep breath and lifted her chin up as they kept walking, focusing solely on the nature of her transfer. She knew now what this was all about. At least she had a pretty good idea.

¤¤¤

"Yeah, let me get back to you about that. Alright. Thanks."

Nick put the receiver down and scribbled a short note for himself before he reached for his coffee cup. Greedily swallowing, he glanced at his wristwatch, waiting for his phone to start ringing again. Twenty minutes past noon. He hadn't had a calm moment all day. Since early morning something had been going on and hell had broken lose after the bombing down at CTU.

"Nick," he heard his name and turned around to see Chappelle walking up to him. "What are you working on?"

"I'm helping out coordinating the agencies –" he started but Chappelle cut him off immediately.

"Get someone else to do it. We need you in Section C."

"Right away?"

"Yes," Chappelle nodded hastily, walking past his desk and signaling him to follow. "Taking CTU out was a pre-emptive strike to slow us down. We also know the people who executed it. A local terror group that has been on our radar for some time. We already took care of them. What we don't have yet is a connection between those people and the ones behind the nuke. CTU is working on that, they think they got a lead."

"Are we taking over?" Nick asked, walking next to his superior.

"No. They are operation-capable for the moment but we lost a lot of staff there and until we got them all replaced they're going to need some assistance. I wanna make sure we don't miss anything. Based on the updated profiles they sent us over from earlier this morning, I want every single terror group in the area checked out. It's at least possible that who ever is behind this whole thing tried to hire someone else for the job first or that there were rumors, maybe someone heard something."

"You want us to talk to all of them?"

"Every single one of them," Chappelle replied, of course fully aware of what he was demanding. No wonder he needed more people on this. "We already started with the ones we have in custody, the others are being brought in as we speak. Davis is already on this, he'll fill you in on the details when you get there."

"Okay."

They had reached the elevators Chappelle was obviously heading for and Nick waited for a sign from his superior that he was dismissed. He had to delegate his work to someone else and then hurry over to Section C.

"You report to me personally as soon as you get something in case you get something. Is that clear?"

"Clear."

"Alright."

Nick turned around and hurried back to his desk, and less then ten minutes later he was on his way.

He found Davis standing in the corridor outside one of the interrogation rooms when he arrived, the usual cigarette in his mouth.

"I thought this is a smoke-free workplace," Nick joked while approaching him.

"Yeah, to hell with that," Davis replied scowling.

"Taking a break?"

"More or less," the older one replied the same moment as the door behind him opened. Nick glanced inside and it only took him a second to grasp the situation. On the monitors he saw the medics packing together and someone had already covered thebody with a blanket.

"What happened?" he asked curiously.

"Weak heart, apparently no one noticed," Davis explained calmly, taking another drag from his cigarette and releasing the smoke from his lungs into the corridor. "At least it wasn't in the damn files."

"I guess he didn't say anything?"

"He didn't have anything to tell."

"Well, no harm done then," Nick concluded. "Imagine if he had and we would have lost him before he could spill his beans."

"He had nothing to spill, trust me."

Nick nodded. _One name less_, he thought soberly. One suspect less they had to interrogate, not only in the ongoing but also in future investigations.

"So, who's next?" he asked indifferently.


	6. Part 4

_Five months later…_

**

* * *

**

**d2**:** + 5 months**

**d3**:** − 2 years, 7 months**

**

* * *

**

Part IV: Changes

* * *

The water was getting warm. Or at least it felt that way.

Nina tilted her head back and closed her eyes, waiting for the sick feeling and the throbbing pain in her head to go away. She knew it hadn't been the smartest move to run herself a cold bath, but the ventilation system had broken down and the heat was killing her. She should have gotten used to it by now but she hadn't, and on top of that it was warmer than usually this time of the year.

A new wave of nausea was washing over her and she wondered if she had been stupid or forgetful enough to drink the tab water. But she hadn't. _Must have been something in the food_, she concluded, or the coffee she had been having earlier, roaming the endless lines of bazaars and souvenir shops. She should never have come up here.

But she had been needy for company, to speak some English or German, even French if she had to, just to talk to someone American or European. So she had packed her bags and driven up to one of the tourist places, it didn't matter which, checked into one of the five-star-hotels and tried to do what everyone around her was doing: relaxing and enjoying themselves.

But it hadn't worked out for her. The crowded beaches had appalled her too much to even consider going there, and she could hardly remember why anyone would enjoy lying in the sun for hours, completely exposed, burning, sweating, grilling, the only relief the sun oil polluted shallow water. She had had her fair share of sunny days those past months. She was overdosed. She had never been a sunbathing enthusiast but even the most dedicated sun worshipper would have been tired by now. What she really wanted was cold, winter, maybe snow. Just no more sun, no more heat. No more tab water you couldn't drink, and no more carpet bazaars. Although the latter ones were a tourist phenomenon she would leave behind once she was back home.

_Home. _She was amazed at how easy the thought came to her. Home? The place she had been staying at since they had let her go? The States? L.A.? She didn't know. She had never had a problem to move, to start over again somewhere else, to adjust to changes. But this time was different.

_Limited exile. _She hadn't been happy about this change but after everything that had happened she knew she had to be grateful she was out and free. _And alive_. The image of a gun barrel against her head came to her and she quickly blinked it away.

She still wondered why Palmer had let her go in the first place, but she certainly hadn't felt a desire to complain or argue. Being in no position to make demands any longer, she had accepted the limited exile and kept quiet. And thought maybe it wasn't going to be that bad. She was restricted to North Africa, okay, but she was free. Free to pick a country, move to another one if she wanted to, get a job or not, whatever. In the beginning there had been certain arrangements to check on her but they couldn't go on like that forever. Even US resources had their limits.

Not that there was anything about her life these days that would raise attention anyway. If they had someone watching her, he or she would probably have died of boredom by now or resigned out of frustration. She would have. An assignment like that could only be a punishment or at best a polite way to suggest retirement. But there was no one watching her, she was almost sure of that. Would be completely sure if it wasn't for that creepy voice inside her mind, reminding her every time she was tempted to forget. _What about Jack? _

Was he following her activities? Keeping an eye on her like he had promised? Sometimes the thought, the uncertainty really, was driving her crazy. And how often had she been tempted to reactivate one of her old contacts, to find out, to make sure. But maybe that was just what he was waiting for. They had made the stipulations of her exile very clear and she sure as hell didn't want to break them.

Watching the scars on her body, the marks of a time she preferred to forget, flashbacks of the interrogations came washing over her, and once again she closed her eyes, trying to shut them out, the images, scents and cries, before they could take over. Maybe she couldn't make her sickness or her headache disappear by mere willpower, but she wouldn't give in to her memories. Taking a deep breath to get prepared, she got up and climbed out of the bathtub.

The heat hit her right away, even stronger now that her body was out of the cold water, and she got her instant reward, feeling dizzy and queasy for a moment. She grabbed a towel and walked over to the sink, glancing at the wristwatch she had taken off earlier. She still had a few hours to decide whether she would go or not. He had offered to pick her up at her hotel but she had rejected it, politely but determined. There was a good chance that they would spend a night together but there was no need for him to know where she was staying. No attachments, no involvements. No complications.

She had always kept it that way, at least as far as her private life was concerned. _Back when you had one. _It seemed such a long time ago now. Things had gotten more than complicated at CTU, with Jack, and then Tony, and prison was the last place where privacy meant anything. Ironically enough, now her private life was all she had. And it wasn't exactly fulfilling.

She had thought about her options, knowing she needed something to do. Not just something to kill time, to keep herself busy. Money wasn't a problem either, she still had plenty of it and it would feed her for another couple of years before she would have to start worrying. No, what she needed was something to get engaged in. A task, a purpose, something that would keep her going. As for now, she just had a house, a car, and nothing to do. Sometimes she wished she could have moved somewhere where she knew people, but she had betrayed the ones working for the law and couldn't be seen with those on the other side.

She sighed. At least one good thing about killing Faheen: he never had a chance to spread the word who had sold him out. It was enough to worry about Jack and prepare for the day he would decide her time was up. She didn't need more people coming after her and there had been no survivors in Visalia. She had never thanked Jack for taking care of that.

¤¤¤

Nick took his key card out of his wallet, glanced at it for a last time and handed it to the guard who took it with a motionless expression.

"If you please sign here?"

"Sure."

Putting his signature onto the form, Nick almost expected a somewhat nostalgic or doubtful feeling, second thoughts or hesitation. But there was nothing and he returned both pen and paper, nodded a sort of goodbye to the man, and walked off without looking back.

Only when he stood outside, when the door of the main entrance had closed behind him, and he was out in the bright light of the day he took a moment to let it sink in. This was it.

Standing there and taking a deep breath, he had just closed his eyes when a familiar voice startled him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He looked up, squinting against the sun, and found Davis leaning against one of the pillars to his left, the usual cigarette dangling between his lips.

"Trying to get away before I turn into a chain smoker as well."

He wasn't sure if he saw a little smile on Davis face, but he took a few steps to approach him.

"Good day today," the older agent sighed and flipped the cigarette away, looking out over the parking lot with the small areas of green.

"Yeah," Nick agreed and for a moment they were both standing in silence.

"You're sure about this, kid?"

Nick nodded and Davis then did too, letting his gaze wander over the neat lines of cars again. He left it at that and Nick heaved a mute sigh of relief. He didn't want to debate his decision any more, didn't want to hear again that he should give it more time. He didn't need more time.

"Got any plans what to do next?"

"There are some offers and ideas on the table but I haven't signed anything yet."

"Well," Davis cleared his throat and turned to him, his eyes still avoiding him though, "if I were you, I'd take the chance and go on a long vacation first."

Nick understood the hint. "Where would you go?" he played along.

"Some island, doesn't matter which one. Just to clear my head, get some perspective."

"I'll send you a postcard when I'm there," Nick laughed.

"Good."

Finally Davis looked at him and after a second reached out his hand. "Good luck, kid."

"Thanks," Nick replied - and felt a little uncomfortable. This was harder than he had thought it would be.

They shook hands.

"Take care," Davis said, sounding almost casually.

"Yeah, you too."

Davis nodded, and without another word he turned around and walked back inside the building. Nick watched the door closing behind him and stared at his reflection in the glass for a moment before he turned away as well. _Time to get out of here. _

He went over to his car and got in, slowly turned the keys in the ignition, and pulled out into traffic.

_Got any plans what to do next? _

Did he? He hadn't been lying to Davis, there were some options he had been looking into. But the truth was, he didn't even know what he wanted any longer. For a long time he had thought he did, and now he had found out that what he had wanted wasn't right for him. Not even two years and he was done. Now where could he go from here?

Maybe Davis was right. Maybe he should take off for a while, just leave everything behind. Get some distance. He could afford a little trip, he still had the money his parents had left him, had never touched it to this day. Maybe it was time now. After all, this was a bit of an emergency, wasn't it? Things had changed and he would have to get used to the thought - the fact - that his future would look different to the one he had planned.


	7. Part 5

_Ten months later…

* * *

_

**d2**:** + 15 months**

**d3**:** − 1 year, 9 months**

**

* * *

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Part V: Opportunities

* * *

Nina stirred, suddenly aware that she had been somewhere else for at least a full minute, staring at the empty coffee mug in front of her, completely lost in her thoughts. She heaved a mute sigh and looked around, making sure she hadn't missed anything. She couldn't afford to be that careless. Not here.

But everything seemed alright as she checked on the few tables and chairs that were occupied, quickly examining and memorizing faces. If she was being followed and they were stupid enough to get this close, she would notice. But they didn't have to be that close. That was the problem.

Her eyes hidden behind the sunglasses, she tilted her head back as if she was enjoying the rays of sun on her face, her gaze wandering over the old building, the windows within her field of vision. _Nothing, of course_. As if it would be that easy to spot them.

She knew she wasn't being paranoid, she had all reason to be careful and suspicious. But she was nervous - and that was what worried her. Being alarmed was good, even fear was fine, as long as it was in control, but being nervous was trouble. It made mistakes more likely and led to nothing but some sort of oversensitivity, sweaty hands and sudden moves giving too much away. She couldn't even remember the last time she had felt this way.

Sighing once more, she closed her eyes and tried to relax, find comfort in her surroundings. The weather was just like she had remembered it this time of the year. The sun was warm but not too warm, and the slight breeze kept the air mild and pleasant. She should have come back earlier. She would have. _If it wasn't for… _The little problem she had concerning her travel and residence restrictions.

Opening her eyes again, she reached out and took a sip of her coffee, watching a group of students gathering around a neighboring table. She wondered how it would be. To be a student again. Now. With a past short of most of her memories.

"Hello, Nina."

The voice startled her. She had neither seen nor heard him approaching. But it also made her relax as she knew he wouldn't be here if the place wasn't secure. _You lost your touch_, she scolded herself nevertheless.

"Hello," she replied, making a point of speaking before looking up to him, at least not showing that he had caught her off guard. And he held her gaze for a moment before he turned to look around.

"I understand why you wanted to meet here," he said, taking a seat at her table. "The place is…alive and dead at once." Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, taking their environment in. "You can almost feel the scent of history, of dusty wisdoms, of books so much older than any person alive or who has ever read them. Still, there's so much…life around here," he set out with a terse gesture towards the students, starting to crowd the place around and the lawn in front of them, the walls and stairs of the ancient masonry. "Old and new so close together."

_Alive and dead at once. _He couldn't have made a more apt remark, she had to give him that. But something in his words made her uncomfortable.

She noticed his eyes on her and met them, sure though that her face wasn't giving her away. She was back to her old self. No more nervousness, no more insecurity. It was like riding a bike. Maybe she had fallen off once and hesitated to get back on, but once she was it felt like she had never been walking.

"I was surprised when you called," he said. "Not because of the nature of your message but I would have expected you to get in touch a lot earlier."

"I had some things to take care of first," she kept her answer brief. She was sure he knew the details of how she had gotten out of prison and what conditions had been attached. And she wasn't keen on explaining why she had waited so long.

She felt confident enough to remove her glasses and he kept looking into her eyes as if he could find an answer in them, see if she was hiding anything. _Are you setting me up? _The question had to be on his mind.

"I assume you heard about Max?"

"Yes," she answered truthfully.

Again that scrutinizing look and she started to get annoyed. She hadn't even known Max had been the one behind it. Not that it would have changed anything. It wasn't her fault he had been brought down. _And if I wanted to sell you out, I would have done it years ago,_ she thought but remained silent.

But maybe she should tell him. Maybe she should tell him how close she had been, back in that room, with the drugs running through her blood, circulating in her veins, and later the pain. But she didn't want to go back there and it wasn't like she had kept her mouth shut for his sake. Still, he could appreciate it a little more.

Her eyes seemed to have told him without words and he lowered his gaze, slightly nodding. He understood. And if he had really been worried she was going to turn him in, he wouldn't have showed up in the first place. But he was here.

"So, you want to get back in?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"Yes," she said, no sign of hesitation in her voice, and again he nodded.

"Okay. I'll see what I can do. You've been exposed so undercover work is not an option anymore. But we'll find you something. Is your…status going to be a problem?"

"I'm here, am I not?" she replied, looking at him calmly. She had picked the place but it had been his demand to see her on US soil. Of course only to test if she would have a problem getting in and out of the country unnoticed. He had no use for someone who couldn't move freely.

"You sure are." He took a moment to examine her appearance more closely, as if he hadn't had the time before. "I'm glad you're back."

She hinted a sneer and turned her head away.

"You've got any plans before going back?" he asked.

"My transportation is arranged. I'm leaving as soon as we're done."

"So early? I thought you might want to pay L.A. a little visit?"

She frowned. "Why should I?"

"Just a thought. You must have some connection to the place?"

Again she sneered, more openly this time.

"Believe me, there's nothing worth going back there."

He seemed to examine her expression closely, and she knew this would be the moment to make her request. If she wanted to get rid off Jack once and for all.

Maintaining a calm expression, she reconsidered once again. But she had thought it through before. Asking him for help now would reveal a weakness, something he didn't appreciate. If he knew Jack was a potential problem, she could forget about her job ambitions. He wouldn't trust her with anything if he saw the slightest chance that CTU or Jack Bauer was on her heels. It would have to wait. Maybe later, when she had gained his trust or reestablished her other contacts. There would be other opportunities, better ones.

"Alright," he stated, obviously satisfied. He glanced at his wristwatch. "I've got some business to take care of but it was nice catching up. I know how to reach you, so – I'll be in touch."

She nodded, knowing of course he wouldn't make a move until he was absolutely sure no one had noticed her little trip and that there wouldn't be any repercussions.

"Sure."

He excused himself and left, and staring after him Nina sighed. _Yeah, good to be back_, she thought but couldn't detect a feeling that came along with it

Glancing at her wristwatch she noticed it was time for her as well, and collecting her sunglasses from the table she got up and left, quickly making her way past the buildings and leaving the campus.

¤¤¤

Nick pushed the door open and walked outside. Loosening his tie with his left hand while holding on to his briefcase with the other, he stopped after a few steps to take the scenery in front of the main building in. The sunlight, the mild breeze that made the treetops slightly sway, the murmuring of a thousand voices, the idea of a million thoughts filling the air. It still amazed him and sometimes hit him as if it hadn't really sunk in yet. He was really back.

Closing his eyes, he tilted his head, letting some sunrays play their game on his face. He couldn't make his mind up about whether it felt like yesterday or ten thousand years ago that he had been a student. But he remembered. The lectures, the seminars, the examinations. Hours in the library, nights spent with books instead of girls or friends, not all of them but many. Too many maybe but it had never felt like he was missing out on something. He had been focused, his mind set on reaching his goal, the school just a stop on his way towards higher grounds. Now he was here again, on the other side of the table as it happened to be the case, the other side of the classroom. And he wasn't on his way anywhere. The goals he had been striving for had lost their attraction, been reached, passed and abandoned. Now he was just exactly where he was, not set on moving on anymore. A bit older, a bit heavier.

"Nick?"

"Yes," he startled and turned around to where the voice had come from. It was Burton.

"I sneaked in today and listened to a part of your lecture, I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. I just hope I didn't make any bad jokes while you were there."

Burton stifled a laughter. "No, you didn't. In fact I was quite impressed," he said, his expression turning serious again. "But I'm afraid I have to notify you that we can't keep you as a guest lecturer any longer."

Nick lowered his gaze and ran his hand over his face.

"We think we have to make your teaching here a permanent installation," Burton continued in the same serious manner and it took Nick a moment to fully understand what the other one was telling him.

"You're offering me a full position?" he finally asked in surprise.

"I think that is what it comes down to."

Again Nick took his eyes off of Burton and let them travel over their surroundings. The buildings, the park, the students. Life was good here, wasn't it?

"Wow," was all he managed to say, knowing his voice didn't carry the excitement he should feel about the offer. If there was any goal he could still have, it would be this.

"No need to rush things, Nick, I know this comes unexpected."

"It surely does."

"You don't have to make your decision right away," Burton explained. "But the vacancy needs to be filled by the end of the term so we need an answer from you in due time."

"Of course," Nick nodded. "I understand."

"Good," Burton stated briefly and completely matter-of-fact. "If you'd excuse me now, I have an appointment in my office. I'll see you tomorrow, Nick."

"Sure."

Nick stared after Burton as he turned around and walked back inside and although the doors closed again behind him and blocked his sight, Nick could see him taking the stairs up to his office. Step by step.

"Wow," he repeated, mumbled to himself. And finally broke into a little smile. This was indeed unexpected. After he had quit his job for the government, he had just fumbled ahead for a while before running into Burton. He had brought him in at his old school, as a guest lecturer, literally saving him from wasting his days on doing nothing. And now he was offering him a full position. Well, not technically, it wasn't for him to decide. But Nick was sure that Burton had been the one to suggest him.

"Professor Sturges?" a young voice addressed him and he turned around one more time to recognize one of his students.

"Yes, Andrew?"

"You said we could have a talk about my final thesis?"

"Right," Nick remembered. "Why don't you come by at my office tomorrow afternoon."

"Sure."

"Good. I'll see you then."

Nick turned to walk over to where his car was parked when the young man addressed him once more, more insistently this time.

"Professor Sturges?"

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if...," Andrew started, squirming under Nick's gaze. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Ask away."

"I heard you were working for the government? As some sort of profiler?"

Nick tried not to let it show but something within him tensed at the reminder of what he had left behind.

"Yes," he said. "Something like that."

"Well, I've been thinking, and…"

"I'm sorry, Andrew, but I have an appointment now," he cut him off, knowing already where he was going. "But come by my office tomorrow. We'll talk then."

"Sure," Andrew nodded and smiled a bit embarrassed before taking off.

Nick stared after him and took a deep breath. There was no appointment, of course, nowhere he had to be about now. He was free for the rest of the day.

He suddenly felt like sitting and walked over to the terrace, making himself comfortable at a table only occupied by an abandoned coffee mug from one of the automats. He noticed the fine trace of lipstick on it and cupping his hand around the bottom, he felt that it was still warm. Someone had been sitting at the exact same place not too long ago.

_Andrew Wheeler_. A good student. Ambitious, smart, diligent, his grades promising success whatever he chose to do. _He reminds me of myself_. Was that why his question had made him so uncomfortable? _Was that why I couldn't look into his eyes? _Why he had sent him away, buying himself some time to come up with an answer? He thought he knew what was going through Andrew's mind, he had been there himself. And he had found someone's advice as well. Thinking back now though, he wished he hadn't. _As if that would have stopped me. _No, it wouldn't have. But that was not the point. The point was Andrew Wheeler who wanted advice from him now. And he had no idea what to tell him.

Of course, he couldn't talk about what he had been doing for the government, what his job had been like and what it had left him with. But what 'could' he tell him then? That he should forget about it and find something else? That it wasn't what he imagined, that it wasn't what he wanted to get involved in? But who was he to make that judgment? Just because he hadn't been able to go through with it, did that mean no one else could or should either? But someone had to do it, didn't they? Someone had to do what was necessary.

He took his cigarettes out of his jacket and lit one, dropping the lighter onto the table and taking a deep drag. He thought of the papers he had to read until the end of the week, the article he had promised a colleague to co-write. _I should have a work-out as well_, he thought, his gaze falling on his well-shaped belly and the buttons of his pants which sat alarmingly tight. He had definitely gained some weight. Well, he was no student anymore. _And no government agent either. _He didn't have to bother keeping in shape.


	8. Part 6

_Two months later…

* * *

_

**d2**:** + 17 months**

**d3**:** − 1 year, 7 months**

**

* * *

**

Part VI: Going On

* * *

Nick stood in the dark, leaning against a tree, nervously dragging at his cigarette. Every minute that passed made him more aware of the complete lack of reason for his actions. He was playing with his life – for absolutely no reason. What did he come here for? And how was he supposed to get back? He had told the driver to wait for him, but the guy had taken off as soon as the money had been in his hands and Nick out of the car. Now he was stuck somewhere, he didn't even know where exactly. Probably not too far from the border. They had been driving southwestwardly, not long, less than 50 miles, he estimated. Before the cab driver had bailed on him.

He stared across the street and the faint light coming from there. What was he waiting for anyway? What was he expecting to happen? He could stand there all night or… _Or I can get the hell out of here_, he muttered to himself. And throwing the cigarette to the ground, he pushed himself off the tree and slowly took a first step. But not to walk away, and he waited for a voice inside his head to yell at him, to reason with him, to convince him this was suicidal. But there was nothing as he approached the house. Just the realization that he had to go through with it now.

He had turned Burton's offer down. He had turned down the privileges of a full position, a steady income and a secured pension. And seeing the disappointment in his old mentor's eyes had made it impossible to stick around any longer. He had packed his bags, cleared his desk, once again floating around without a goal. It wasn't hard to find a job with his merits, something good enough to pay his daily expenses, to keep his head above water. He preferred the stand-in jobs. They came with little or no responsibility, certainly no authority, and he could basically take them and quit them as he liked. Now he wondered if fate or destiny would have led him here even if he had made a different decision. If he had accepted Burton's offer.

At least caring enough to make sure he kept in the shadows, he made his way over, soon arriving at the slightly more than knee-high wall enclosing what seemed to be a patch of garden. Without further hesitation he slid over it and moved on.

The door was still open, probably to let the somewhat cooler air in, now that night was finally falling. But the light wasn't coming from there, he had noticed before. It was somewhere around the corner, at the back of the house, maybe lit on a terrace or what could be the rest of the garden. From his position, this angle, he couldn't see anything yet. He took a deep breath and prepared for another step when he sensed something moving behind him. But he didn't get a chance to react.

He felt a sharp pain in his neck and then found himself on the ground, almost out. Strangely aware he was only a moment away from unconsciousness, his mind traveled back to relive the events of the last hours.

He had been sitting in the waiting area, leafing through a newspaper without really paying attention to what he was reading. Much too early for his flight, he had tried to kill time, bored and tired, just wanting to get home. The vacation hadn't turned out that great.

_Could have done something better with that money, _he had thought. And looking for some distraction, he had cast his eyes round the room and watched another plane arriving, passengers, mostly local residents, picking up their baggage and passing him on their way towards the exit. Tozeur was a smaller airport. Originally, he had been supposed to leave from Tunis but he had altered the booking to leave a few days earlier and get back home. _Home…right_.

Checking out the new arrivals, he had wondered if the discomforts of the long drive down and the waiting had been worth the whole venture. _Probably not_, he had just concluded when his heart had suddenly skipped a beat, causing him to hold his breath.

His jaw had dropped. It couldn't be. Impossible. _She couldn't be…_ . But she damn sure looked like her.

If he didn't know she was in prison. But did he really know that? He had left Division a year and a half ago and if she had managed to escape, they surely wouldn't have advertised it in the papers or on TV. The first second he hadn't even recognized her. Just rested his gaze on her for a moment, naturally, as she had stood out as one of the few foreigners. But then she had turned her head and there was no way he could have forgotten. Although he hadn't thought of it in a long time. His first real case. His first real recommendation. _Decision._ He had felt his throat going dry.

She had walked by, fortunately without looking his direction, and left the building. And without thinking about it he had gotten up as well and followed her outside. She had quickly made her way to the parking lot and got into a car, and again he had just reacted without reflecting on the consequences of his actions.

And sitting in a shabby cab, following her on a dusty road somewhere in the middle of Tunisia, he had finally wondered what the hell he was doing. They had left the city and the driver had complained that he usually didn't go that far. But waving with a roll of banknotes had calmed him down. He would probably take him across the country and back if they could agree on a price, Nick had thought, and signaled that he would pay whatever he would be quoted for. In area like this, a bit off the tourist spots, that had to be like winning the jackpot.

"C'est bien?" he had asked, holding up the cigarette package, besides his wallet the only thing that was not on the plane and probably on the way home by then.

And the driver had given him a nod and a smile. "C'est bien."

"Great."

He had fumbled with his lighter and lit a cigarette, collapsing into the seedy seat, running a hand through his hair and licking his dry lips, wiping the sweat off his forehead. What the hell was he doing?

They had soon been out in the open with less and less cars accompanying them, and he had started to worry. How far was she going? Where was she going? The longer they stayed behind her, the more likely it was that she would notice the cab following her. _And if I recognized her, she'll recognize me just as easily._ And he still remembered what she was capable of, what had happened to people who had been in her way. The ones they knew of. _So what the hell am I doing?_

Feeling the warm earth against his face now, the dry taste of it on his lips, a sense of someone standing over him was the last thing he caught before he drifted off into unconsciousness.

¤¤¤

Nina exhaled, shrugging the surge of adrenaline off, and stared down at the man to her feet. _Seems we're finally on. _Hunting season had started. And in a way she was relieved. At least the time of waiting and uncertainty was over now.

She had been suspicious right away when the cab in the rearview mirror hadn't disappeared even after they had left the city. Wondering if there was any sense to pretending she hadn't noticed, she had realized it was still her best option. And once home, she had arranged what she had been prepared for all this time: papers and documents, the things she really needed were at all times ready to leave with her, the phone call only took around 40 seconds, and her other bags had been packed within a matter of minutes. Then she had waited. The border was less than an hour away in case she needed to make a quick exit, but she estimated she still had plenty of time. He seemed to be on his own.

She knelt down beside him, making sure he was really out, wondering once again why he had been so careless. First the cab, and then it hadn't been hard to discover him standing on the other side of the road. Neither to waylay him when he had made his approach. And she had been ready to shoot him, knowing the silencer would prevent unwanted attention. But while sneaking up on him in the dark, she had reconsidered and made a quick decision, letting him live for now. First she needed to know who else knew about her whereabouts.

Reaching out for his shoulder, she was curious if she would meet a familiar face. After all, Jack would probably turn to someone he trusted with this, which limited the number of people worth considering and increased the chances that she might know that person as well. Jack had never trusted more than a handful of people, and it wasn't very likely that had changed after she had sold him out three years ago. His partner, his confidant, his fling. Not that his trust in her had been unlimited either, but she had probably come closer to him than anyone else. In certain ways even closer than his precious wife.

On the other hand it would make more sense to send somebody she didn't know, wouldn't recognize right away. Especially as this could only be about finding her, checking up on her, preferably without warning her. There was no doubt on her mind that Jack would want to finish things personally.

She pulled at the guy's shoulder to flip him over, and when his head rolled around, she stared into his face, incredulous for a moment. _He?_

She frowned. Perplexed. Confused. _Why him?_ His chest rising and falling, he was obviously still breathing.

Thinking back now, she could easily recall the image of him sitting across the table, in his white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his tie loosened as if he had been wearing it for too many hours. His face had been unshaved and stubbly then as well, he had seemed a little tired, but not nearly as worn down as he did now. He looked different, somewhat aged, somewhat less in shape. His clothes were not only casual, they were scruffy, his whole appearance somehow sloppy and unkempt. She spotted the beginning of a beer belly. He looked like the cliché of a seedy private investigator.

She got to her feet and slipped the gun into her pants, grabbed his shoulders and dragged him around the corner to the terrace, where she left him on the floor. Quickly searching his pockets, she found what she was looking for, and leafing through his passport walked inside to get the satellite phone.

"Yes?" a familiar voice answered just about a minute later.

"It's me."

"What do you need?"

"I need information about a man, a -" she checked the passport again, "Nick Sturges." She had never learned his name. "He's probably been with Division, the Bureau or some other related agency about three years ago. I need to know what he's doing now."

"You just mean his status or do you want details about current assignments etc.?"

"Whatever you can dig up," she replied. "It's urgent."

"You got it," her contact affirmed, one of her most reliable sources and also most secretive. She was glad she could still use him. "I'll get back to you as soon as I got anything."

"One more thing," she added, making her way back towards the terrace.

"Yes?"

"I need you to cross-reference everything you find."

"Cross-reference? With what?"

"CTU." She sighed inaudibly. "Jack Bauer."

"Is your past finally catching up with you?" he asked, and she hesitated, staring at the unconscious man in her backyard.

"We'll see."

She hung up and placed the phone on the living room table before she stepped outside. It would take a while before he called back. Enough time for her to take care of her uninvited guest. And while looking for something to secure him with, she couldn't but wonder once again: _why him?_ Of all people she could think of, he was the last one she had expected to show up at her doorstep. What was he doing here? She had a hard time believing that Jack had sent him, but then again, what were the odds he had come for any other reason? As far as she knew, there was only one person interested in finding her for the time being.

"Are you sure?"

Nick slowly came to, the voice coming from far away through the mist.

"No, that won't be necessary. Just make sure this stays between you and me."

¤¤¤

The first thing he noticed was a dull pain somewhere in the back of his head which seemed to increase as he tried to open his eyes.

"No one needs to know."

He tried to focus, to listen and make sense of the words reaching his ears, but his mind was still in a haze and his memory foggy. Now noticing as well that his arms were restraint and tied behind his back while his upper body was leaning against something wooden, he found himself sitting on the ground. He blinked a few times, looking around to scan his surroundings.

"Rise and shine," the voice rang out again, clearer this time, nearer. "Look who's awake."

He looked up and caught sight of her, sitting in a chair about ten feet away from him. And as everything came back to him, his eyes lingered on the gun that was lying on the chair's armrest, her hand loosely covering it, signaling that she could easily make use of it any second.

"Nick," she said as if stating a fact. "I never got your name."

And his gaze slid further up, meeting hers, finding the hint of a sarcastic smile on her face.

"I don't even remember how much time we spent together. I wasn't in the best shape."

He swallowed, trying to find some sort of composure. He remembered.

She looked better now. Much more awake, stronger, her skin color healthier. Back at the airport, he had been wondering how he could be so sure it was her at all. She didn't seem to have much in common with the person he had seen at Division, seen being interrogated. _Seen getting tortured. _She seemed fine now.

"It's been a while," she continued, even her voice bearing that amused, mocking intonation. "Why are you here?"

Why was he here? Was this a suicide mission? Had the last years only been some sort of strange foreplay leading up to this night? This absurd reunion? Had he finally found what he had been looking for all along?

"Hmm…weren't you the one telling me that keeping quiet was not the right choice?" she said almost teasingly, but then her face seemed to harden a little as she cut to the point. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw you at the airport," he was surprised to hear himself say, with a throaty voice he hardly recognized.

She raised her eyebrows.

"That's it? You saw me and thought 'oh, we had such a lovely time last time, I should stop by and say hi'?"

Her words drowning in sarcasm, he wanted to look away, avoid her piercing eyes but couldn't. So he just stared back at her, hectically searching for a way out of this.

"Maybe I wanted to make sure you wouldn't get away before they come to get you?" he tried in a much too desperate attempt, angry at being so panic-stricken, angry at being so headless. Was this what it was like to be at the other side of the table? He had tried to imagine it sometimes but in his head the scenario had played out differently. He had done better. Used his skills, his intelligence, not acted like an amateur.

"Get me?" she asked amused. "Who?"

Frustrated and not sure how to proceed with his bluff, he decided it was best to keep his mouth shut. He tried to smile, the way she had, to seem self-assure, but he felt it wasn't nearly as convincing as he wanted it to be.

"Who else knows you're here?"

Was there a hint of worry in her question, concern? Or was it just wishful thinking on his part_? But she should be worried._ She was on the run, she had to be worried facing the possibility of getting arrested again.

"Division."

Again that smile. And she didn't seem to have to fake it.

"You called them?"

He couldn't see why but he felt as if he had just made a mistake. Said the wrong thing at the wrong time. As if he had given away something he shouldn't have. If he just knew what.

"And what did you tell them? That you located a fugitive?" Her eyes challenged him.

"Maybe."

"I bet they were very interested."

Something was wrong. Either she knew for sure that he hadn't had the time to contact anyone or she really didn't care. But he couldn't see a reason for either one.

"They were," he tried to carry on nevertheless. There was no turning back now anyway.

She shook her head and seemed to stifle a laughter.

"You've been away for too long, Nick," she sighed then. "Trust me, even if you had called Division, they wouldn't have cared much."

_Even if? _

"I'm a normal civilian now. I've done my time, I deeply regret."

"Sure," he retorted. "I didn't know the sentence for murder and treason had been reduced so drastically that you get out after what, three years?"

"It hasn't," she replied calmly. "But as the United States is a presidential democracy, the head of state has the right to basically pardon any convict he likes."

"Pardon?" he repeated, taken aback. "If I remember correctly, you were helping to try to assassinate this very president. Why should he have pardoned you of all people?"

"Maybe he thought I'm not such a bad person," she stated mockingly, and he didn't know what to make of it. But he didn't get much time to commit himself to an opinion.

He saw her getting up, taking the gun with her and keeping a relaxed grip around it while she came towards him. His mind was racing. Could this be true? Could she really have been released in the course of a pardon?

He took a deep breath as she squatted down in front of him, the gun still not aimed at anything in particular, almost dangling from her hand, on a level with her knees. But it wasn't the gun itself that scared him. More his knowledge about the person holding it. If she was telling the truth he was no threat to her, but somehow that didn't make him feel safe.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice and expression serious now. "You didn't come here unarmed and without back-up to arrest me. So why did you?"

He felt a shiver running down his spine.

"I don't know."

It was the truth. Had he thought he had followed her to let her kill him, the fear surging up inside him was conflicting with that theory.

"Why did you leave Division?"

She knew. How did she know? Was she guessing or indeed better informed about him than he was about her? _In that case she'll know what you did._ If she hadn't figured it out on her own right away. And whether it had been his intention or not, there was a good chance she would kill him for what they had done to her. But something else was occupying his mind. Why had he left Division?

"I couldn't stay there," he merely whispered, and continued as she didn't attempt to stop him. "I was too weak," he said, shocked as the words started to run out of him and realizing he couldn't stop them. Maybe he had held them back for too long. "When you first start out, it's all exciting and new, and you're thrilled because you're finally doing what you've only been studying before. You're finally using all those skills you trained, all those theories and strategies."

He saw her frown, examine his face and his expression as if to look for an indicator for the truthfulness of his statement. But he barely noticed, hardly cared what effect his words had on her now. His voice slowed down a little as he suddenly felt exhausted. As if he had been bearing something for so long - and only now was he collapsing under the burden.

"It's intoxicating. Until you realize that it's not some text book example, no theory. And you start seeing real people, with families, relationships – despite whatever they have done or are accused of having done. They're still for real. And you think you can't handle that." His eyes strayed from her at last, and it was his turn to sneer, just for himself, just for a second. "They tell you that it's normal. That you'll get used to it. And you think, no, I'll never get used to this, I won't." Traveling lower and lower, his eyes finally met the ground in front of him. "I won't," he repeated, his voice heavy with consternation. "But you do. Within the blink of an eye, you do. Before you know of it, you're so used to it, you don't question it anymore. And you're doing your job, you go home in the evenings, thinking you've done alright. You've done what's necessary. Someone has to. You've done good."

He looked up and into her eyes again, hardly seeing her though.

"I used to think that I'm educated, intelligent, enlightened. But I was good at my job, I was good. And so caught up in…'doing the right thing', I stopped questioning what that is."

She seemed indifferent, and a part of him wondered why she was even listening. But he was still too estranged from the situation to care.

"Who's to say what can be sacrificed? And for what? You see all these things, right in front of your eyes. You see more than you ever thought you were gonna see, more than is good for you. But you just go along. Because you accept the fact that it's the best for your country, for us. Whoever that is… What if the best for 'us' is the worst for someone else? What if the world is more complicated than good and bad, black and white, right or wrong? But there's no time for that, no room. So you keep doing the best you can, sticking to what you know for sure and shutting everything else out. You decide not to see what you can't allow yourself to see. And you find yourself suddenly so far away from who you wanted to be or thought you'd be. It scared me." He noticed he had switched from the less personal 'you' to the more definite 'I', wondering if he could make himself any more vulnerable. Hardly. But what did it matter now. "It scared the hell out of me. What I had become. Who I was." Once again he lowered his gaze, once again staring at the ground in front of him, the ground between them. "And I wasn't up to it. As if I had noticed I was playing with the big guys when all I was, was just a little boy. With no idea what I had gotten myself into."

¤¤¤

He had fallen silent. Finally. And while he seemed to be somewhere far away, Nina became oddly aware of the situation again.

"Then it was good you stopped playing," she said with a mocking smile on her face and got up.

The thought had occurred to her, of course, that this was a charade. That he had chosen his words carefully and for a reason, hoping they would affect her in a certain way. If she remembered one thing from their previous encounter, it was not to underestimate him. She had no doubt that he had been good at his job, at getting into other people's minds. She had her own first-hand experience. But there was something in his eyes, a desperation too real to be fake. Besides – her contact had confirmed it: there was no connection to Jack. Nick Sturges had officially terminated his employment contract one and a half years ago, and nothing was indicating that he had crossed paths with Jack before that, neither that he had been in contact with anyone since. His shock about her pardon seemed real and even though he had still been with Division at the time it made sense he hadn't learned about it until now. Palmer had made sure only a few people knew. _Not exactly the thing he'd want to advertise with_. Whatever had led Nick here, it had nothing to do with Jack. Now she just had to get rid off him.

"It was me," he stopped her on her way inside, his voice suddenly strong again, and she glanced over her shoulder.

"It was my recommendation that got you there."

She turned a bit more around to have a proper look at his face. _Of course._ She had known it was gonna come up as soon as she had recognized him. And now it didn't take her one second to understand what he was talking about. Only where was he heading with this?

"I figured," she replied calmly.

She hadn't exactly given it much thought. After he had left the room that night, other things had been more important to focus on. But she had known, of course. Once she had realized Alberta wasn't important, she had understood that Nick had been the one to call the shots, the one who had been supposed to break her. _And when he couldn't, he probably recommended torture._ She had assumed it, knowing she would have done it if she had been in his place. Now she knew for sure.

"I watched," he continued just as she was about to move on.

She stared at him, knowing her expression was still indifferent, not giving away what she felt.

"I was there."

She understood. And suppressed the memories of what he had watched. She could see what he was up to and tried to focus on that and leave everything else aside, turning around the last bit to face him.

"I can tell you details to prove it," he offered and it took her a little longer than usually to display a mocking smile.

"I bet you can."

She took her time looking him up and down, noticing the way his whole body was tensed, his breathing hectic and a little too fast, his forehead sweaty, his eyes restless and nervously flickering over her face. She took her time because the longer it lasted the more aware he became of all these things as well.

"Let me tell you what I think," she said, using his exact words and the intonation as she remembered it. "I think you didn't come here to have me killing you. Maybe you think you did but that's not it."

He slowly lowered his eyes and hung his head, looking like a child that had been caught doing something and was about to be punished.

"I don't know what it is you're looking for, but this is not the place to find it," she continued, slowly walking up to him. "Unless I'm wrong."

He looked up, and as she squatted down in front of him again, tilted his head back as far as he could, holding his breath.

"Unless you really wanna die," she challenged him.

He swallowed but didn't say anything, just stared back at her.

"Do you?" she asked, raising her hand with the gun slowly, to give him time to anticipate what she was going to do. And his eyes followed the barrel until it connected with his temple. Then he closed them.

She watched him closely, and recognizing the expression on his face, she was suddenly not so sure anymore. There was fear, definitely, his entire body about to start shaking. But she could also tell that he hadn't merely closed his eyes in a reflex. He was playing the scenario in his mind, imagining the consequences in case he chose to give her a positive answer. _Yes, I do._ And she caught herself hoping she hadn't been wrong about this, that she wouldn't actually hear him say it.

After all, she had come to the conclusion that it was best to let him live. He was no direct threat to her, even if he would tell anyone about their encounter. She would be long gone by then. She had to change locations anyway, now that everything was arranged. There was nothing to gain from killing him. It wouldn't be hard to cover up since he had been the one invading her property. But a dead body always raised attention, especially if one of the involved was a foreigner residing on terms of a limited exile. Attention she didn't need. It was less trouble to just let him go.

But seeing him seriously consider her implied offer, she suddenly wondered if she should grant him his wish if it was to… But she hadn't been wrong.

A moment later he opened his eyes again and slowly met hers, still not saying anything but giving her a look that didn't require any further explanation.

"I didn't think so," she stated, sneering slightly as she removed the gun from his head and got up. She almost felt sorry for him. "This is not about you wanting to die. It's about guilt."

Looking down at him, she couldn't but think how lost he seemed, his eyes staring back at her, asking for something she couldn't give him. And that he didn't need in the first place. _He doesn't need to be forgiven. _Although, ironically enough, he seemed to think so.

"I'm not sure what it is you're beating yourself up over," she sighed, rolling her eyes while she let the gun disappear behind her back, "but I'm pretty sure it's not worth it. Cause no one cares except for you." She reached into her pocket and revealed a penknife. This entire night had turned into a giant waste of time, money and patience. Her time, her money and her patience. "You couldn't do the job, you were smart enough to quit – so what? They found someone else to get it done, trust me, they always do. So if that's what you're worried about," she counseled sarcastically, letting the blade pop out, "don't be."

She walked around him and knelt down, cutting through the rope she had used to tie his hands.

"What if I disappointed someone?" she heard him whisper, and remained squatted behind his back a moment longer, wondering who he was talking about. Expectations on part of his family, his parents? Or just his own?

"Then get over it. It's not the end of the world, it's simply how the world is. People disappoint and get disappointed." She got up, taking one step back and then a couple more around him to have a look at his face again. "Welcome to reality," she sneered, looking down on him. "Time to go home and play with the other kids."


	9. Part 7

_Four months later…

* * *

_

**d2**: **+ 21 months**

**d3**:** − 1 year, 3 months**

* * *

**Part VII: Back to the roots**

* * *

"So, how the hell are you?"

Nick leaned back smiled. Well, he was fine, wasn't he?

"I'm fine."

"Nice to hear," Davis smiled back at him. "It's good to see you, kid."

"Yeah. Good to see you too."

"Well, you could have had that sooner. What have you been up to all these years? I suppose you haven't been in town?"

"No, not really. I did some moving, been a bit here and there, working, traveling, living. You know, the kind of stuff you don't get to do," he joked.

"Right," Davis grinned. "So what brings you back? You got a job around here?"

"No, I'm just passing through. Thought it would be nice to catch up."

"Good thinking, kid."

Their drinks came and Davis proposed a toast.

"To the one who got away."

Nick nodded, not sure what to say, and they clinked glasses.

"You said passing through?"

"Yeah, I'm on my way home. I mean, the area where I grew up."

"Visiting your folks?"

"No, just some old friends," Nick kept his answer brief, but reconsidered. "Actually, my parents died. Years ago. There's no one else as for family."

"Sorry, kid."

"That's alright. I just felt like going there and see what it's like now. Haven't been there in forever."

"Back to the roots?"

"Yeah, maybe," Nick smiled pensively.

"I've been wondering sometimes after you left. How you were getting along, what you did for a living, you know."

Nick looked at his former colleague, glad to see he hadn't changed. Davis had never been the one to get emotional or sentimental, but he had his own way of conveying his message, showing that he cared. Rather by what he didn't say than by what he said.

"Well, it's been…difficult, at first," Nick admitted, knowing Davis wouldn't try to make him tell more than he wanted. "It's quite a transformation, getting back to…normality?" He smirked. "But I got by. And I had plenty of time to make plans, so, now, all I have to do is…decide which one I'm going through with."

"I see. I thought you maybe went back to school. You know, to teach. I could always imagine you in a class room at some fancy school or college."

"Yeah, I tried that for a while," Nick avoided the issue. "Wasn't that fulfilling."

Davis nodded, not asking further questions, just as Nick had assumed. Instead he took another sip of his drink and got his cigarettes out.

"I would offer you one but I guess you still don't smoke?"

"Actually, I do," Nick admitted embarrassed, and gratefully accepted the cigarette and the light Davis offered.

"You started drinking too?" the older one asked, and Nick understood that despite the sarcastic intonation it wasn't meant as a joke.

"For a while," he answered truthfully, "but it wasn't really me."

Davis nodded.

"Got a bit self-destructive there?"

"Maybe," Nick laughed. "Or maybe I just had a late teenage crisis. The whole rebelling thing, you know. Kinda missed out on that when I was young."

"That's the best explanation you came up with?" Davis mocked him. "I remembered your psycho-analytical skills to be better."

"I'm not really into analyzing and psychology anymore," Nick replied, noticing it came out more serious than he wanted it to sound. _I think I had my fair share._

"Who could blame you," Davis sighed, looking thoughtfully at his glass.

"So how's work? What's going on at Division?"

"Same old, same old. Not much I can tell you, I'm afraid," Davis shrugged his shoulders. "Your replacement sucks," he added then, causing Nick to laugh. Davis code for _he's not half as good as you. _Which meant Davis thought he'd done a good job. The closest to giving a compliment he'd ever be.

"Well, he already lasted longer than I did."

"And that's a shame," Davis replied, looking down at his drink again.

There was an awkward silence for a moment, and Nick instantly regretted his comment. He shouldn't have brought it up.

"I shouldn't really tell you this but I trust you with keeping it to yourself," Davis suddenly said, giving him a meaningful look.

"Sure."

"You remember your very first case?" the older one asked, casting his eyes round the room as if to make sure no one was overhearing their conversation. "Don't say a name," he added quickly, just as Nick was about to answer. "Just say 'yes' or 'no'."

"Yes," Nick stated, trying to keep his voice calm and stable. He knew all too well who they were talking about. Should he mention that he had seen her? But wouldn't he have to explain the circumstances of their reunion as well then?

"I guess you also remember the incident with the nuke and the bombing at CTU?" Davis whispered conspiratorially.

"Of course."

"Well, get this. I talked to an old friend over there, couple of weeks ago. Seems like while we were sitting interrogating all day long, they had her brought in for questioning as well. And this time she actually talked."

_So that's how she got out_. He had never checked. First of all because it was not that easy for him to get that kind of information as a civilian. But also because with everything that had happened that night in Tunisia, he had contented himself with being alive. Of course, when he had called up Davis to meet, he had considered to ask him about it, wondering how to approach the subject without giving himself away.

"Yeah," Davis nodded, obviously interpreting the expression on Nick's face as a sign of surprise. "Seems she was somehow involved in the whole thing. And in trade for providing information that helped to stop it, she got pardoned."

Nick didn't have to fake looking shocked. He had known about the pardon but the connection to the nuke – that was new.

"Seems to me, you were right all along, kid," Davis stated. "She knew an awful lot more than she could have if she had just been working for the old man from Kosovo."

"Seems so," Nick agreed, not sure if he could take any consolation from that fact. Although that was probably the reason why Davis was telling him all this.

"And they let her go," the older one sighed.

Nick smirked. "Isn't it nice to know that you can help setting up a nuclear bomb and still go free?"

"Well, not completely free."

He gave him a questioning look.

"As far as I understood it, she's been released into some kind of limited exile."

"What the hell is that?" Nick asked irritated. He'd never even heard of the term.

"Means they kicked her out of the country. She's a 'persona non grata' here now, restricted to North Africa."

_Explains Tunisia_, he thought. "But how's that gonna work?"

"I'm not sure," Davis sighed. "It's all highly classified information and some people won't be happy when they find out it's leaking out, not even within the agencies. Although…I could think of one person who might be more than happy if her exact location leaks out."

"Yeah?" Nick wondered, and listened carefully as Davis continued whilst the pieces started to fall into place.

"Anyway," Davis sighed, finishing his drink and his story, "you don't know about any of this."

"Of course not," Nick nodded.

¤¤¤

"I heard you moved?"

Of course he knew.

"Yes," Nina affirmed factually, moving the phone over to her left hand to work the keyboard with her right.

"Was there anything wrong with your previous location?"

"Didn't like the neighborhood," she dismissed his question. She could hardly tell him the real reason. It still surprised her that he hadn't figured it out yet. He was so well-informed about everything else, how could he have missed the history between her and Jack. Well, he probably hadn't, but he didn't seem to know about Jack's longing for revenge. _Or his promise_. She was sure if he did know, he would have brought it up by now.

"Anyone found out you're flying below radar yet?"

"I'm not. I'm still residing in North Africa and that's all US government needs to know."

"Are you sure?"

She rolled her eyes. She wouldn't jeopardize her pardon unless she absolutely had to. And there was only one reason she could think of that could force her to. If she was sure?

"We wouldn't have this conversation if I wasn't." _If you weren't._ He was starting to irritate her. "So? You didn't just call me to ask about things you already know."

"I've been offered something I want to purchase," he got down to business at last.

"I'm supposed to pick it up for you?"

"No. I want you to establish contact. Neither I nor the other side can afford to be involved in this deal directly. You're going to meet someone."

"An intermediary," she concluded, not showing the excitement she felt at the prospect of a door opening up for her. So far none of her jobs had required a great deal of devotion or even attention, and she felt more underappreciated than ever. Knowing it wasn't her competence that was being questioned, she wondered what else she had to do to prove herself. Hadn't she done more than enough? Didn't she deserve to play in the major league again? For the last few months she had felt like sitting on the substitute's bench. But maybe that was about to change. Whatever this job was about, she had been around long enough to know that this kind of secrecy involved could only mean something big.

"Yes. He'll contact you with the details about where and when."

"Can he be trusted?"

"I thought you knew that I don't trust anyone. But I got him checked out, he seems reliable. Use your own contacts though if that makes you feel better. Just get back to me as soon as you hear from him."

"Alright."

"His name is Michael Amador."

The name didn't ring a bell but when she hung up a few moments later, Nina couldn't help but smile. Maybe things would take a turn now.


	10. Part 8 I

_Two weeks later…

* * *

_

**d2**:** + 21 months**

**d3**:** − 1 year, 3 months**

**

* * *

**

Part VIII: Someone from out of town

* * *

"Why this place?" She had wondered about it all along.

"There's the right environment for every occasion," he explained, letting his eyes wander over their surroundings for a moment. "I guess it won't surprise you that I had my sources checking you out."

Nina simply followed his gaze, not reacting to his words. He seemed to like the sound of his own voice a little too much for her taste.

"Quite impressive but then again, you got caught," Amador continued. "Seems you took the fall for someone else's screw-up."

"I'm doing my best not to let that happen again."

It was meant as a warning and the point wasn't lost on him.

"I used to do business with Max," he countered. "One day you'll have to tell me more about your part in that specific matter."

She hesitated, wondering if this was going to be a problem. A part of her was annoyed because this thing just kept coming back and she had a feeling it would all blow up into her face one day. But she had been aware of the risks when she had seen her chance that day and bought her ticket out. And some people being suspicious about it wasn't the worst scenario she had been able to think of.

"I did what I had to do," she shrugged, not feeling in the mood to get into the subject any more.

"I suppose we all do," he answered to her surprise. Maybe she had underestimated him. Maybe he knew exactly what it took to survive in their world. She would find out soon enough as it seemed.

"I'll have to confer with my client before I can say anything definite," he got back to business, "but I think we'll be able to find an agreement and settle this the next time we meet."

"Good."

Again he stopped to look around and she came to halt as well, standing in front of him as he turned around to face her.

"You can say whatever you want about our line of work but it takes us to a lot of interesting places."

She frowned slightly and let her gaze travel around as well. Interesting? They were somewhere in a small town near the Mexican border and except for the fact that the place had become the scenery for their talks - the meeting place for two outlaws, as he was hardly the law-abiding citizen either – she couldn't see anything that would make the place special or remotely interesting. An old couple passed them, walking their dog, a kid in a red jacket riding his bike at the other side of the road, a woman carrying her grocery bags home, fumbling with her keys as she approached the front door. Everything seemed so normal, so real, it was almost absurd. A man sitting at a table in the diner, right by the window, reading his paper, a waitress walking up to him, two men getting in a car outside.

Nina held her breath, seeing one of them hesitate to stare back at her.

"Are you sure the place is clear?" she asked, reflecting on her options.

"Of course it is," Amador confirmed, almost sounding insulted. "Why?"

She felt his eyes on her and let her own move on, meeting his at last.

"Is there anything bothering you?"

"No," she stated calmly, having made her decision.

"Don't worry," he assured her in a somewhat patronizing tone. "I'm aware of your situation."

She had a long close look at him and didn't like what she saw. The hint of a smile on his face. And she couldn't but feel exposed. _Jack. He knows about Jack. _He seemed to have made his homework and know more than she would like for him to know. Too much to feel comfortable with.

"It's not a problem for me," he continued, "but have you considered taking care of it yourself?"

"You said something about another deal?" she changed the subject, letting her eyes wander over to the diner and the car in front of it once more before she started walking again. He followed along.

"Yes. There is something I've been looking into, to see if it's worthwhile. If it is, I might need another player."

"A partner?" she asked interested, seeing the opportunity of another door opening up. She wasn't sure yet what to make of Amador but if he could introduce her to someone or even bring her into another deal - fine by her. You couldn't have too many contacts.

"I usually have a partner. But I think you might be more qualified for this one."

"Let's hear about it," she encouraged him.

¤¤¤

Nick silently closed the door behind him and stood still for a moment, harkening into what he hoped was an empty room. Otherwise he would be in serious trouble. But he didn't hear anything and in such a way encouraged he moved on, quickly having a look at the rest of the place. There was hardly anything indicating that someone was staying here, except for the bag next to the bed and a briefcase on the small desk by the window.

Glancing at his wristwatch, he sighed. He probably wouldn't have to wait long. She had seen him too.

He sat down in the only chair there was, straight across from the door and by the window. Phil had wondered why he suddenly had been in such a hurry to leave, and his explanation had been everything but convincing. But he could worry about that later.

Was he making a mistake? In that case it might be his last one. She had let him go last time because it hadn't meant a risk. But things were slightly different this time. He sat in the semidarkness of the room, contemplating the consequences of his presence while a part of him was questioning his sanity, wondering if this was just another way of putting himself to the test, to see if he wasn't suicidal after all. Did he for some unhealthy reason need this?

_No, I don't_, he objected in his mind. _I'm just paying off a debt._

Finally, he heard the key turning in the lock, and placing his hands on the armrests of the chair where they were clearly visible, he took a deep breath.

The door was slowly being opened, her left hand against it the first thing to enter his field of vision. Then he saw the rest of her appearing in the doorframe, her other hand under her coat, probably on a gun. She caught sight of him and he saw a tiny hint of surprise on her face. Not at the fact that it was him, of course, but she probably hadn't expected him to wait for her here.

He saw her quickly scanning the hotel room, closing the door while doing so.

"We have to stop meeting like this," she stated mockingly, but he could see that she was still on alert when her eyes quickly met him, identified his empty hands, and focused on the rest of the room again. "People might start talking."

"They say you always meet twice," he replied with a chilly sarcasm.

"Twice?" She sneered, taking a few steps into the room. "I count at least three times." Making sure they really were alone, she threw a quick glance inside the bathroom before she turned her attention back to him. "How did you find me?"

"Wasn't too hard," he explained, sensible enough not to move yet. "There aren't many places someone from out of town could be staying at. So I took a chance."

"Someone from out of town?"

"I grew up around here, arrived four days ago," he clarified quickly. "I had no idea you were gonna be here."

"The man I saw you with?"

"An old friend," he stuck to the truth. "I dropped him off and he thinks I left. No one knows I'm here and as far as I'm concerned neither does anyone that you are."

She didn't seem overly worried but he noticed the way she quickly glanced through the window, peering out as if to check if there was anything unusual going on outside. No wonder, considering that he had just given her to understand that he knew she was breaking her pardon by being here and that he could set her up. And she obviously wasn't convinced yet that he wasn't doing exactly that, not convinced yet that he was telling the truth.

"I wouldn't be here otherwise," he added and was met with a mocking smile.

"You tried to convince me of the exact opposite last time and you were lying then."

"Well, I wasn't very good at it, was I?" he replied, holding her gaze for a moment before looking down. "Let's say I was very confused and desperate back then."

"Yeah," he heard her remark with a mocking intonation but found her expression almost neutral when he looked up again.

She seemed to make a quick evaluation, obviously concluding that she had the situation under control because she suddenly slipped out of her coat and threw it onto the bed. Nick felt himself relax a little.

"You look better," she sighed.

"I didn't come to chitchat," he cut her off.

Another smile. The hint of a smile. He had seen it often enough by now not to be surprised anymore. Still, he couldn't but observe it. The way her features just moved enough to give the idea of a smile, to communicate how superior she felt, how self-assure she was.

"I see." She tilted her head, her eyes laughing at him. "Then why are you?"

"To warn you," he explained. "I felt I owe you that."

¤¤¤

"Owe me?" Nina echoed, leaning back a little, surprised, amused, watching him curiously. "Why?"

"You know why," he said, casting his eyes down to avoid hers, obviously uncomfortable now.

She had to repress a laughter. Things just kept getting weirder. First the sticky sultriness of a Tunisian night, filled with uttered threats and bald attempts at intimidation, empty talk and whispered confessions. And now an awkward silence at the memories, wavering over the greatest irony of all: how often had she ended up with nothing but a pat on the back for all her hard work, nothing but a handshake and a brief smile after putting herself on the line, and now that she had reached a point that was so far away from all that, she was suddenly met with some twisted sort of gratitude. _How sad is that?_

"You have to leave," Nick finally broke the silence, and waited for a response from her. "I know what you're up to," he continued when she didn't offer one. "You're heading for L.A., aren't you? You're going after him."

_Jack. He's talking about Jack_.

"Why else would you take the risk of coming here?" he confirmed her thoughts. He had no idea about Amador. But how could he know?

"I understand it now. Why you were so afraid back in Tunisia."

She tilted her head slightly, a smile playing around her mouth. _Afraid?_

"You thought I was him," Nick continued. "At first. Or that he had sent me."

Maybe she had underestimated him. It seemed to have become a habit of hers lately. One that could become fatal if she didn't get rid off it, and that quickly.

He obviously had some contacts of his own and was well-informed about the stipulations of her pardon as well as the recent history between her and Jack. Both information that wasn't easy to access.

"You really did your homework," she sneered. "Are you back at work yet?"

"I'm not doing that anymore," he objected coldly, and she caught herself peering out through the window again.

_That._ It sounded rejecting, disgusted almost, and could well be a sign that he was really through with his former work. Not exactly a surprise after everything he had confessed to her in Tunisia. But she remembered all too well how he had kept on talking about 'them' during the interrogation. Nothing but a trick, so why should it be any different now? But something about him seemed…genuine.

Maybe she should keep him here until she had checked with her contact if he was at least telling the truth about this one, if he really hadn't gone back to working for Division or another agency. But she couldn't really believe he was setting her up. Knowing all too well what she was capable of, he was probably smarter than facing her right after snitching on her. _On the other hand_, she reasoned, _if he did and they are on their way now, they might have asked him to buy some time, to keep you here._ And considering the guilt trip he had been on after quitting, he might just figure this was a good way to make amends to his country.

_Get out of here!_ a voice urged inside her head, countering something she couldn't quite grasp. A vague feeling that he wouldn't do it. That she could believe him. Trust him.

_Trust him? _What was wrong with her? _Now when was the last time you trusted someone? And where did it get you?_

"So you really just happened to see me and thought it would be a good opportunity to get even?"

"Yes."

She shouldn't even be having this conversation with him. What were the odds that they had really just run into each other by accident - again? Why was she taking an absolutely unnecessary risk?

"And why is that?" she asked, buying some time of her own until she had made her decision. _Wasting time you might not have_.

"I told you."

"Right. Because I didn't kill you?"

She rolled her eyes, but he suddenly snapped.

"No. Not because you didn't kill me. See, Nina, that's the difference between us. As a decent human being, I don't walk around feeling I have to express my gratitude to everyone who _didn't _kill me."

_As a decent human being. _Right. _You mean unlike me_, she thought. And smiled. Smiled it off.

"My bad," she apologized sarcastically. "Why then - Nick?"

"Because for some reason…" he hesitated, squirming, "…for some reason I'm doing better since that night."

She shook her head, letting her eyes wander round the room. This entire situation was just getting more and more bizarre.

"Alright. I don't want to seem ungrateful. I consider myself warned." Crossing her arms, she looked down at him. "If that would be all?"

"You're still going," he stated, almost looking disappointed.

_He thinks you're here for Jack_, she reminded herself_. Or he's stalling._ She couldn't stop her inner voice telling her she was acting irrational, against her instincts, that she should know better.

"Why do you care?" she asked amused. "You owe him too?"

"No. But I had this funny thought that maybe you do," he replied, leaning back a little, suddenly seeming awfully comfortable where he was sitting. It almost felt familiar.

"Well, well, look who's back," she smirked, turning around and walking a few steps, making sure he noticed the gun on her back. "So, this warning - is there anything else coming along with it?" Facing him again, she scrutinized his eyes, ready to detect any hint she could get from his reaction. "Let's say you turning me in if I don't leave?"

But to her surprise he simply smiled. Sneered, actually. The same sneer she had seen all those years ago at Division.

"I'm not gonna play that game with you," he stated and elaborated when she raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm not gonna give you a reason to let me live. Neither to kill me for that matter. If it's really that simple for you then figure it out by yourself."

"I'm afraid it is that simple."

"If it's easier for you to let yourself believe that then go ahead. Be my guest."

"Hm. One could really think you don't care whether you live or die," she mocked him. And wondered if she should put the gun to his temple again to prove him the opposite.

"Oh, I do care," he quickly assured. "But in your world, I don't really have a say anyway, do I? I mean, I'm sure Teri didn't wanna die when you killed her." Of course he had to bring it up again. "And Jack obviously wanted to live. Or at least survive you."

Suddenly it was his turn to mock her. Why was she even listening? He had come to her, the second time already. To do what? To insult her? Judge her? She really shouldn't be wasting her time with this.

¤¤¤

"But I know you had your reasons," Nick went on. "I understand. I'm sure there's a good and logical explanation to every single time you killed someone. How many by the way? Or have you lost count?"

She had taken her eyes off of him but her smile was still in place.

"You really are better," she remarked. "I'm glad to see you're back in shape."

"And I think you were more impressive when you did your little I'm-not-gonna-say-a-word-performance. Now, your attempts to avoid the issue are just lame."

She raised her brow, surprised, but he just kept staring back at her, his expression somewhere between cold and bored. _I might not be as tough as you or not even as good as you. But I'm not a total amateur_.

She held his gaze, slightly frowning, obviously not sure what to do with him. _Am I confusing you?_ he thought, starting to feel more complacent. _Am I not playing by the rules? _

"What's your point?" she asked, casting another glance through the window behind him. She was still insecure. _Good. _He knew it was stupid and childish but somehow he just couldn't fight the urge to oppose her with something, to try and match her. If he could only get her to loose that cool façade, to stop being so indifferent on the outside, just once. If he could make her say what she really thought instead of keeping it all to herself, staying so damn well in control. He knew it was illogical and the wrong time and place to get into a psychological duel with her, but a part of him simply wanted to break her. And to make things worse - he knew it was his ego.

"Hmm, what's my point?" he repeated sarcastically. "Hell, I don't know. I guess I was just thinking of all those people who would have died if that nuclear bomb had gone off. Which you helped setting up by the way as I heard. Congratulations. Sorry, it didn't work out. But I'm sure there was a good reason for all these people's death as well, wasn't there?"

She wanted to say something. He could see it. Just for a second but it was there. She had been tempted to comment, to object maybe, to explain. He was sure. But then she didn't. And he felt frustration crawling up inside him. _So close. _

"So, tell me something," she changed the subject again, resuming to walk and crossing the room again, back to where she had been standing before. "If you really just wanted to warn me, why didn't you leave a note or gave me a phone call once you knew where I'm staying? Why did you come and see me?"

_Not like I haven't asked myself the same question_, he admitted to himself. And hesitated a moment too long for her not to notice.

"Is it possible that there's another reason for your being here?" she insinuated, approaching her earlier position.

"Like what?" he replied, and saw her stopping, turning around and opening her mouth to respond, when the window behind him suddenly exploded, drowning her words in the sound of shattering glass. Then everything just happened way too fast.

He froze, staring at the doorframe across from him, where two bullets had driven themselves deep into the wood, while he noticed in the corner of his eye how she flew around, trying to back away from the window and at the same time pull her gun. But another shot tore through the room before she managed, and he thought she had been hit when she was suddenly on the ground. Lying on her back, she tried to move, crawl away, her right arm finally reemerging with the gun. And pointing it towards the window her eyes flickered around, hastily trying to find a target.

Shaking off his paralysis, Nick jumped to his feet and immediately found the muzzle of her gun aimed at him. Flinching, instinctively raising his hands, as if that could somehow protect him from a bullet, he closed his eyes in anticipation, right before he heard another shot being fired.

¤¤¤

_He did set you up!_ a mocking voice triumphed in her head whilst she tried to get away from the window and struggled for her gun. _Told you so._

She felt a sharp sting when the projectile grazed her shoulder, ripping the fabric of her shirt open and some of the skin underneath but not doing any serious damage. Still the impact was strong enough to send her to the ground, and desperately trying to get out of sight, she finally got her gun out and searched for something to train it on. She found it a good second later when Nick's sudden movement made her spin around.

She saw him backing away and couldn't but wonder if she would find comfort in not going down alone. But then another bullet came swishing through the air, and when a new sting ripped through her body she knew she wasn't lucky this time.

A sharp pain shot through her leg, as if all muscles, tendons and nerves were pulled together with such force that she was sure they had to rupture. She heard herself cry out, and maybe it was simply the pain that made her roll over onto her side, but once she had, her instincts kicked back in, urging her to move on and ignore the pain until there was time for it.

She reached the sidewall and propped her head up against the baseboard, hoping she wasn't in the line of fire anymore. Holding the gun in both hands now, she peered hard at the two-storied houses across the street, quickly searching the upper windows to locate the position of the sniper. _It's taking too long, it's taking too long_, her mind reeled off the same urging mantra as she let her gaze flicker over the façades. But she couldn't discern anything suspicious, and when a few seconds had passed without another shot being fired, she knew she was out of sight. _Safe for the moment. _

She spun around, once again pointing the gun at Nick who had backed away even more, his hands in the air gesturing surrender, the genuine shock in his face arguing that he hadn't seen this coming any more than she had. And his eyes seeking hers, imploring her, protesting his innocence, she reconsidered and moved on to aim at the door, knowing though she hardly stood a chance if a SWAT team would sweep the room.

"What the hell is going on?" he exclaimed, apparently just finding his voice again. Maybe he really had no idea.

"I thought you could tell me," she tried him nevertheless.

"I have nothing to do with this," he claimed urgently, and she was inclined to believe him. It had been too long since the first shot had been fired.

Feeling the seconds ticking away, she strained her ears for any sounds. The place, the entire town really hadn't exactly been filled with crowds of people, but there should be some activity. Yet, there was nothing. Not even traffic noise from outside, no screams or signs of panic, just a spooky silence. As if every living soul around them had just disappeared. _As if somebody warned them and got them out of sight in time_, a warning voice rang out in her head, provoking the image of a stealthy evacuation. _But if it was a police raid they would have barged in by now_. And there were no hushed whispers, no brief commands, no trampling of shoes pelting down the hallway, no sounds of doors bursting open. It seemed more like the work of a single assailant. She shifted back towards the window.

But Jack would do this to her face and not from somewhere across the street, hidden behind a telescopic sight. It was too personal for that.

But who else wanted to see her dead? Who else even knew that she was here? Amador, of course, but what interest could he have in killing her? They were about to close a deal and he had just offered her to work with him on something else. No, it couldn't be him. And if it wasn't Jack either, who else had she pissed off lately? Had she stepped on any toes by dealing with Amador? Was there something her employer had forgotten to tell her?

Important questions but none that would get her anywhere at the moment. Right now, all that mattered was to get herself out of this situation.

"What the hell is happening?" Nick urged agitated, and steadily keeping the gun trained on the row of houses within her field of vision, she gave him a disparaging look.

"I would say someone's trying to kill me."

"Who?"

"I'll let you know as soon as I've figured it out."

She waited another couple of seconds before she moved some more, ignoring the instant pain it caused. And sitting up properly against the wall now, a bit closer to the window, she tried to get a view over the scenery outside without giving the sniper another shot at her.

The street was indeed deserted, but an empty car with the trunk left open, an abandoned bike with its wheel still spinning, and several objects scattered on the asphalt here and there were clear signs of a panicky getaway rather than an orderly evacuation. She noticed a movement behind a shop window, and her grip around the gun tightened in anticipation. But it was just a clerk, curiously popping his head up to peek outside.

She leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment, listening to her own breathing. She had to focus. She had to get out of here. She had to take care of that shooter somehow.

"Are you okay?" Nick's question got through to her and she looked up, irritated for a second. He almost sounded caring. Angry, and agitated, but also caring.

"We have to move," she explained matter-of-factly. "He's not going to wait forever."

¤¤¤

"He?" Nick asked, looking out through the window as well and then back at her.

"Probably a hit man," she explained with a sigh, as if she was either annoyed at the fact itself or that she had to spell it out for him.

"And why is he coming for you?" he tried to understand what he had gotten into, and more importantly, tried to keep her focused on the enemy outside. _As long as she's busy with him she won't worry about me_, he figured. _And as long as I'm not a threat she might not kill me._

"I'll find out soon enough," she uttered through her teeth, taking her eyes off the window for a moment to check on her wound.

"That comforts me," Nick couldn't but comment. "And I just happened to be in the way?" Maybe pissing her off wasn't a smart thing to do in his current position but he was too angry to stick to his own strategy. Angry at her and even more at himself. _No one forced me to come here._

But she ignored his remark, struggling to get to her feet and into a standing position. It was obvious she was in pain, her features contorted, blood seeping through her pants, but finally she was up, pressing her back flat against the wall to seek cover, just the same way he was on his side of the room. There was blood coming from her shoulder as well, where the first bullet had hit her, but it seemed relatively harmless compared to her leg.

"There's an exit in the back that should be clear," she stated, and he glanced at the two neat circular holes in the doorframe.

_Problem: we just have to get there first. _

He had figured out by now that she hadn't spotted the assassin yet or she would have returned fire. But he wondered if she at least had a vague idea where the guy was. He wasn't keen on playing target with the door so obviously in the line of fire, although he agreed that they needed to get out of the room. They were trapped in here.

"So, what's the -" he started but quickly fell silent when she raised a hand to cut him off, calling his attention to the sound of an approaching car engine. And watching how she slid a little closer to the window, careful not to put her weight on the wounded leg and peering hard at something beyond his range of vision, he started to contemplate his options.

So far he was still alive, but it was all hanging by a very thin thread, because even if Nina could take care of the shooter before he could take care of them - _that doesn't exactly mean I'm safe, does it? _She did seem to believe him now but he wasn't keen on giving her a chance to doubt again. _She would have shot me a minute ago if it hadn't been for that guy with his sniper rifle. _So from his point of view, he wasn't safer in here than out there with him. Maybe he should just take his chances.

_I never should have come here in the first place_, he cursed himself, and keeping his eyes on her he made sure to tread carefully as he slowly moved a little closer to the door.

¤¤¤

It was a patrol car taxiing down the street, but given the fact that there were neither flashing lights nor a siren, the guardians of the law couldn't be taking this very serious. The scenario of a shootout in the middle of their small town was probably too surreal.

Trying to block the pain out, Nina watched the cruiser slowing down and then pulling over to stop in front of the hotel, two uniformed officers getting out. Bending their steps towards the entrance right away, none of them had more than a brief look around. They seemed neither aware of a shooter outside the hotel nor the danger they were in. _They're dead already. _

And it was probably saving her some trouble. She could hardly afford to be associated with this, so the last thing she needed was a police investigation before she had covered up her tracks and disappeared.

A new series of shots tore through the silence, proving her right, and she watched with a deadpan expression as both men went down, probably dead before they hit the ground. Instinctively trying to retrace the trajectory of the bullets, her eyes finally found the assassin.

He had obviously left his earlier position cause now he was standing in a doorway across the street, the rifle still in his hands, his face just emerging from behind the telescopic sight as he gazed at the result of his work. With a satisfied expression, he simply dropped the gun then, and abandoned it for a handier one as he stepped out into the street.

Recognizing the familiar features, Nina clutched her own gun tighter as she set to aim at him, a voice in the back of her head wondering though why he was exposing himself like this. And why he was there at all.

¤¤¤

Hearing the shots being fired outside, Nick could only guess that whoever had just arrived in that car was probably dead by now. Nina's face didn't give anything away, but that hardly came as a surprise.

Feeling the wall against his back, he threw another quick glance at the door, now only one long stride away, and a shrilling voice urged him to just make a run for it and get the hell out of there. But even if their shooter was distracted enough not to put a bullet through his head as soon as he tried, there was no way he could reach the door, open it up, and get out without her noticing. And he wasn't sure what she would do.

He let his eyes return to her. She didn't look like she could run after him and for some reason he didn't think she would put a bullet in his back. _So maybe nothing. _But maybe was a bit too vague to venture his life for.

Seeing her frown and clenching her teeth right before raising her arm, Nick could only hope she finally had a target. And that she would hit it. But before she managed to crook her finger around the trigger, the door in front of him, suddenly and without a warning, flew open and almost slammed into his face. He froze, staring at the invader and the gun in his hand, and then glanced across the room to Nina.

She had turned her head an idea and was glaring at their unbidden guest, but apart from that she hadn't moved. The gun in her outstretched hand still pointed at something or someone out in the street, and her expression indicated annoyance at the intermission. But there was no sign of fear or panic. And once again Nick couldn't but wonder if she really was as cold as she seemed or if she was just completely in control of her emotions and to what extent she revealed them.

"Hello, Nina," the intruder growled, looking her up and down and, of course, noticing her injury. He grinned. "Now be a good girl and take your finger off that trigger."

She smirked, forcing a thin smile on her face as she gently turned her head back again, probably cursing herself silently but complying nevertheless.

"I should have known he's not alone," she stated, staring outside again.

"Yeah, just like Max should have known better than to trust you," her adversary replied icily, moving another step forward and into the room, glancing at Nick. "Who the hell is he?"

"Does it matter?" Nina countered indifferently after taking a quick glance at him herself.

"Not really," the guy sneered. "You know how this works."

Nina didn't reply, but it was obvious she did know how it worked. And Nick understood too. He was dead anyway, they both were. At least if things went according to their opponents' plans.

"So I suggest you put the gun down, slowly," the guy continued, and Nick found himself pressing the palms of his hands against the wall in his back, surprised as he realized what he was about to do.

"And then we just wait for Jared before -".

He pushed himself off the wall, booting the door with a slam, kicking it as hard as he could. The impact knocked the guy over and Nick didn't waste any time. Being the only one without a gun, he didn't want to stick around to find out who was quicker. The door had bounced back and with two swift steps he had rounded it and was out in the corridor, sprinting as fast as he could as two shots rang out behind him.


	11. Part 8 II

¤¤¤

Nina leaned back into the corner, the dead angle of the room, and took a deep breath. _Lucky again. _But she probably deserved some luck at this point.

Nick had taken off and she couldn't blame him, but if she made it out of here, she would have to think about how to deal with him. If he decided that this was more than he could keep to himself she would be in trouble. Her pardon would be worthless and she a fugitive. She didn't even want to think about the consequences.

Lying by the door, Travis groaned in pain, and keeping her gun on him she cursed herself for not understanding it right away. The sniper hadn't been supposed to take her out. He hadn't missed her twice and then only hit her leg by accident. It had been his job to wound her and pin her to the room until Travis could get to her. Not the simplest plan and one that attracted more attention than necessary, but she guessed they both wanted to have their share. And while Travis had always been the one going hand-to-hand, Jared preferred what he called the elegance of a sniper rifle. To kill from a safe distance without getting his hands dirty. He had spun a whole philosophy around it which he had been so eager to elaborate for her the one time she had met him, both of them, in Max's company.

"Fuck," Travis yelled, racked with pain, looking at his chest where blood was quickly seeping through his shirt and pooling in a dark red circle. "You better finish me off now."

"Nice to see you too," she sighed. "Just out of curiosity – how did you find me?"

"Cost us a lot of time and money but fortunately some of your contacts are just as buyable as you," he spit, glaring at her in fury.

"I didn't know you and Jared were so close."

"We were the only ones left after you sold us all out, so guess what – that got us very close."

She rolled her eyes. She was sick of it. And for a moment, she considered telling him. But why bother. She better focused on finding out which of her contacts he was talking about. There seemed to be too many people after her to make mistakes. And she was lucky if she wouldn't have to pay for this one.

She had expected him to go for his gun and didn't hesitate when he moved.

Staring down at his lifeless body, she couldn't but shake her head inwardly. She knew she wouldn't have given up that easily. At least she would have tried to stall. Jared had to be on his way in. _Which means you have to get out. _

She risked to peek around the window frame, just long enough to confirm that the street was empty again, except for the two dead officers still lying a few steps from their car. It was time to move. She just had to reach the back exit and make it to the car.

Looking down her leg though, she contemplated to just stay where she was, and wait for Jared to show up at the door instead of limping around. But it wasn't a good option. He knew she was in here and had probably calculated for this situation. She was an easy target and there were enough ways to take her out without giving her a clear shot at him first.

_Move_, she urged herself, and tried to make her way through the room, clenching her teeth, holding her breath as the pain increased again. She knew it was only a question of time until her leg would refuse to carry even the little weight she tried to put on it, but she kept moving, steadying herself against the wall, knowing she didn't have a second to waste. _It's only pain. _She had beaten it before.

Once out in the corridor, she quickly checked that it was clear and then turned to her left, dragging herself further as fast as she could. But all the while she couldn't stop thinking that running away wasn't gonna solve her problem. And frankly – she was tired of it. The last thing she needed was another reason to constantly look over her shoulder.

_True, but you're not exactly in your best shape_, she reasoned with herself. Right now, the best she could do was to get away. Everything else could be taken care of later. All that mattered was to get to that exit and out of here. If Nick was smart he would already be there.

¤¤¤

But he was't. Once out of the room, he had turned right, sprinting down the hallway until he turned a corner. Slowing down a little, he strained his ears, but no one seemed to have followed him. He sighed with relief but then stopped abruptly.

_I'm an idiot. _Panic-stricken as he was, he hadn't thought about more than just getting away. But the corridor he was on led straight to the lobby. _And there's still a guy with a big rifle waiting somewhere. Trying to walk out the main entrance might not be a smart move_.

He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. Maybe he should go back. But that very moment another shot echoed through the hallway and he flinched. _Nah, I don't think so_, a voice mocked inside his head. He quickly picked up the pace again. He knew the alternative wasn't much better, but the bigger the distance between him and that room the better. There had to be another way out of this.

_The back exit. _He had no idea which exit she had been talking about but there had to be more than one. Kitchen, goods entrance, emergency exits - he just had to get to the back of the hotel, away from windows and snipers and trigger happy strangers.

He saw another corridor branching off to his left and made a turn, hoping it wouldn't be a dead end. He wished he had taken some more time to have a proper look around when he had arrived. He wished he had never set a foot in the damn hotel. _I wish I had been smart enough to turn around and run the moment I saw her._

Something swished through the air and hit the wallpaper next to him, and he jerked around. Seeing the scratch the bullet had left – so tiny it almost seemed innocuous – he spun around. And stared into another gun muzzle or rather the silencer that was attached to it.

"Not so fast, pal," its possessor demanded, steadily aiming at him while he slowly moved closer.

It had to be the shooter. _Jared. _Probably on his way to join his partner. If he knew what had happened right before Nick had made a run for it? _If he's gonna shoot me? _

"Where are you going?"

_I guess nowhere now_. Nick cursed silently, feeling panic welling up inside him, hoping he could control it.

"Outside, getting some fresh air," he replied with sarcasm. "There's too much lead whirring around here."

"A joker," Jared mocked, but then his expression turned serious. "Who the hell are you?" He had stopped and was now standing about five meters away from Nick.

_How could I possibly explain my role in this? _

But Jared didn't seem too interested in an answer. By now he had probably figured out that something had to have gone wrong.

"Where's Nina?" he asked, the frown on his face giving him away. He was worried.

"Last time I saw her, your partner had a gun on her," Nick decided to take a chance, staring right into his eyes, hoping Jared really had no idea what had happened next.

"And how come you're wandering around out here?"

_Because I ran the first chance I got. _And he felt his façade falling into pieces. "I ran off," he admitted, looking down, strangely enough feeling like a coward all of a sudden.

"Then I guess you're not her boyfriend," Jared sneered. "Are you doing business with her?"

_Business? _Nick's mind was racing. Would that help him or not? What should he say? What could he do?

"No," he finally shook his head.

"So you're no one important," Jared concluded with a contemptuous smile, and Nick understood.

"I heard shots," he called out, hoping to prevent the killer from pulling the trigger. "After I left the room, I heard shots."

Jared hesitated. "And?"

"And no one came after me."

It was a risky game he was playing, revealing that the other guy was probably dead. But he didn't really have anything to lose, did he?

Jared eyed him skeptically for a moment but then seemed determined again.

"Then I better go check on them."

"If Nina shot him, she's not gonna be there anymore," he stammered, desperately trying to come up with something that could save his life, that could buy him just a little more time. He didn't want to die! He didn't have anything to do with all this!

"She's wounded. I don't think she'll get too far," Jared countered, obviously unmoved at the prospect that his partner could be dead.

"She's tough," Nick objected quickly, not even lying. Images from the time he had walked in on her being tortured popped up in his mind.

"Then I better hurry."

"I know where she's going." He was clutching at straws.

But it seemed to do the trick, at least for the moment. Giving him a long close look, Jared lowered his arm an idea.

"Where?"

"If I tell you now, how do I know you're not gonna shoot me anyway?"

"Well, if you don't tell me now, I will shoot you for sure. You're just gonna have to take a chance."

Nick swallowed, assessing the options. But Jared lifting his arm again was enough to convince him.

"L.A. She's going to L.A."

"It's a big city."

"She's going after Bauer. Jack Bauer. He's –"

"I know who he is," Jared cut him off. "So you suggest if I stay close to Bauer, I'm gonna run into her eventually?"

"Yes," Nick nodded eagerly, knowing he had given away the only thing that could have been a trump up his sleeve. _And did I just sell someone out? _True, Nina Myers wasn't exactly the impersonation of innocence, but…he had just set her up.

"Well, thank you," Jared interrupted his line of thought. "I'll make sure she finds out how I located her," Jared sneered and shifted his weight an idea, bringing his right shoulder a bit more forward.

Nick squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation, and hearing the explosion when the hammer impinged upon the cartridge, imagining how the bullet was set off and sent on its way, everything inside him screamed that it couldn't happen like this. That he wasn't supposed to die like this. This couldn't be the end.

Time suddenly seemed to stand still because it took forever for the bullet to hit him. And a thought formed somewhere in his head, absurd enough to get his attention. _It shouldn't be this loud. _Jared had a silencer on his gun. The shot shouldn't be this loud.

And suddenly time was back up on its normal speed, and he heard a cry and another shot, and jerked his eyes open, just in time to see Jared going down. And staring past him down the corridor, he caught sight of Nina, halfway hidden behind the corner to the main hallway, her gun still trained on Jared.

¤¤¤

Nina leaned against the wall, suddenly feeling nausea and dizziness taking over. She forced herself to stay focused a moment longer though, and only when she was sure that it was really over, that Jared didn't move anymore, did she lower the gun. She was suddenly so tired.

But she fought the urge to slide down the wall and sit down for a moment. _You can't rest. Not yet. _She had to get out of here. She had to think of how to fix this mess.

She looked up at Nick. He hadn't moved yet either, staring down at the dead body between them, but then he seemed to regain his composure and slowly started walking towards her.

She held her breath when he passed Jared, a part of her almost hoping he would try to bend down and pick up the gun. It would make things so much easier.

_Since when do you need a justification? _she wondered but didn't get the time to dwell on it.

"We need to get out of here," Nick stated matter-of-factly and she smirked.

"We?"

"You need a doctor," he dismissed her remark, still coming closer but slowing down now, approaching her with caution.

_Yeah, right. That would be his first concern. _She shook her head inwardly but hesitated, giving him a long close look. She still hadn't decided what to do with him._ Not true. You just can't make the one decision you know would be right._

She had expected him to stop and leave a comfortable distance between them but he didn't, instead reaching out a hand when he was only a few feet away from her. And she quickly raised her gun again to signal she was in pain but not out of her mind.

He stopped abruptly.

"How far do you think you'll get on your own?" he exclaimed almost reproachfully, looking down at her leg. And as much as she hated it – he was right. She wouldn't be able to walk around much longer and she did need a doctor. Or at least someone who was able to fix her leg.

"Fine," she muttered under her breath, and clutching the gun tighter to be prepared in case he was up to something, she allowed him to put his arm around her.

Without another word, she led their steps towards the lobby then. Still some work to do before they could leave.

"What happened to the back exit?" he asked, pulling her left arm a little tighter around his neck, and she gratefully leaned on him some more when she felt the pain decreasing a little.

_Don't get carried away_, she reminded herself, positive she knew the reason why he was so caring all of a sudden. _He's rather afraid something might happen to him than afraid something might happen to you. _

They reached the lobby and she cast her eyes round the room before she indicated to him what they were heading for: the check-in desk. It seemed to dawn on him what she was up to.

"Are we covering up some tracks?"

She had to. Once the police arrived at the scene, it wouldn't take them long to figure out what had happened. The holes in the wall, the shattered window, Jared's sniper rifle across the street – and they would know the two hadn't killed each other. That there had been someone else involved. And gotten away. She had to make sure nothing led to her.

"That's why you came back, isn't it?"

_Of course it is_, she thought amused. Had he seriously believed something else? She shook her head. Just because he believed that he owed the world and everyone in it didn't mean she did. She didn't owe him anything.

Leaning over the desk to pick up the registration book, she caught sight of another body, lying behind it on the ground. Repressing a thought she didn't want to think, she quickly focused on the book, glad she had come to one of the few places that hadn't entered the 21st century yet.

She had used a fake ID, of course, but it was better if nothing hinted to a guest staying in her room at all, especially not a female one. She found the entry and without further ado ripped out the entire page, knowing it would also make it harder to track down the guests who had already left. And in case someone remembered seeing a dark-haired woman in the hotel, she could easily have been one of the already departed guests. She was sure no one had actually seen her walking in or out of her room, so the only person who knew was the woman who had checked her in. The woman who was lying dead behind the desk.

She glanced down at her again, and this time she couldn't stop the thought from flashing her mind. _You would have had to kill her otherwise._ And knowing it was true, knowing it would have been the only way to save her pardon and thereby eventually her life, she suddenly felt disgusted. Disgusted and weak.

She noticed Nick watching her and urged herself to focus. _It's the pain and the blood loss making you dizzy. _

"We have to hurry," she stated curtly. One more thing to do and then she would be out of here.

¤¤¤

Nick swallowed, staring into the dead woman's eyes. The woman he had been charming to give him Nina's room number less than half an hour ago. Suddenly he felt like throwing up. He had thought working for Division had been walking a world he couldn't breathe in, but this was…

_Actually not so different at all_, a voice rang out somewhere in his mind. _People killing, people dying._ _For no obvious reason, for no good reason, but always for some reason. You've seen it all before. Wasn't that what made you walk away? _

He felt sick and turned his head away, stealing a glance at Nina who was studying the registration book. And for a moment he considered to just turn around and walk away. _Fuck you. I'm out of here. _But he doubted she would just let him go. He knew she was trying so hard to cover her traces because she could forget about her pardon otherwise. And he was a pretty big trace. He was only surprised she hadn't shot him right there in the hallway. It would have been easy to make it look like he and Jared had killed each other. He had been seen around, he was a former fed - why shouldn't they have been coming for him? _And no one would be looking for her_. As much as it scared him, he knew it was a handy solution to all her problems. So why had she passed up on the opportunity?

_Maybe she simply didn't see it._

He caught the expression on her face, the moment of weakness she wasn't fast enough to hide when she looked down at the dead woman. And maybe that was why he was still alive. Because she was weak.But he doubted it. Just like he doubted that she wasn't aware of what he was doing. Helping her, keeping her focused on the overall projective of saving her own skin, all just to take her mind off yet another reason to kill him for: his betrayal.

_She must have heard what I told Jared. _She had to know he had tried to sell her out. Only to save his skin though –and who else could understand that better than her. And that was most likely why she didn't seem to care, why she hadn't pulled the trigger in the heat of the moment. Not because she didn't see through his little charming offensive.

"We have to hurry," she stated indifferently, wiping her face clean of all emotions just like that.

He put his arm back around her and let her set the pace, supporting her as best as he could as they made their way back to the corridor, Nina limping rather than walking. Her leg was still bleeding, and he wondered how she could still be up on her feet. But then again, he had seen her coping with much more. For the second time today he saw images from that basement dungeon flashing before his eyes. He shook it off.

_Why didn't she kill me?_

Maybe it was an occupational disease, a habit he hadn't gotten rid off yet, but he hadn't been able to stop himself from trying to get into her mind earlier. Almost like a reflex, and he had been angry with himself. Now, he realized getting into her mind, seeing things the way she did was the only thing that could maybe save him.

He knew why he she had let him walk in Tunisia and he hadn't come to see her today if he hadn't believed she would let him walk again. _Because I wasn't a threat to her. I would have convinced her. _But now the situation had changed. Now the stakes were suddenly high, too high if he was realistic. So if he wanted her to let him live, he would have to come up with a reason.

_I'm not going to play that game with you. I'm not going to give you a reason to let me live_, his own words echoed in his head. How quickly things could change.

They were back at the room and she made him stop in the doorframe, entangling herself and pushing him a few feet away, signaling for him to stay right there. He complied. And understood when she dragged herself further on her own, bending down to secure the dead guy's gun. She surely was in pain and exhausted, but she wasn't weak enough to miss something like that.

He watched her moving on, over to the bed where she picked up her coat and put it on.

"What have you touched?"

He tried to remember, going through it in his mind.

"The door, the chair," he hesitated, "and your briefcase." He nodded towards the desk.

She smirked.

"There are towels in the bathroom."

_Great. Now I'm destroying evidence_, he thought but went to get some anyway. At least she wasn't planning on killing him right here. _Cause if she was, she wouldn't mind my fingerprints all over the place. _But did it mean she was going to let him walk? Why should she?

Cleaning the armrests of the chair, he darted a glance at her. She had sat down on the bed and was trying to produce some sort of makeshift pressure bandage. He had to figure her out. If he wanted to live through this, he had to find a way inside her mind. This time it wasn't about his ego and this time he couldn't afford to let it go.

¤¤¤

Nina slumped into the passenger seat, leaning her head back against the headrest. If the car had been parked ten more meters away, she doubted she would ever have made it. Her cautiousness had almost cost her.

"Go," she ordered, uncomfortable with how weak her voice sounded. She swallowed, and tried to at least maintain a determined expression on her face.

Nick hit the ignition and they started moving, just when the sirens rang out somewhere behind them. And despite her complaining a second ago, she was glad now that she had picked this place to park. It was relatively easy to reach from the hotel, at least if you hadn't been shot in the leg, and most importantly – you could get there unnoticed. A short walk through a deserted area, and the road they were on now would take them to a safe distance before anyone would notice someone had gotten away.

"Where are we going?" Nick asked, and she had to admit to herself she didn't have an answer for him. Not that she hadn't given it a lot of thinking but she simply wasn't sure what was best.

The blood traces were everywhere in the hotel and they would give her injury away. She couldn't go to a hospital, neither to any doctor in this area. The risk was too high. She went over her list of contacts in her head. Who was close enough to be of any help now? And who did she trust enough to expose herself in the state she was in? She knew one of her contacts had sold her out.

"Just stay on this road. As soon as it's dark, we'll cross the border."

She would feel a lot safer once she was out of the country.

"It's still more than three hours until it gets dark," Nick pointed out, not taking his eyes off the road.

As if she wasn't aware of that fact. She couldn't tell how much damage the bullet had done, so she didn't know how much time she had. Before she would die or simply pass out from blood loss or pain. Or both.

"Just drive."

"I know a place where we could lay low for a while," he objected to her surprise. And she had to hold back not to laugh. _Lay low. _The words sounded odd coming from him. She eyed him skeptically.

"I just don't want to get stopped by a patrol," he elaborated, and she couldn't deny he had a point. Driving around in circles so close to the border wasn't the best idea when trying to avoid attention, and another shootout was the last thing she needed. _And the last thing he wants. _Things were bad enough as they were.

"What place?"

"It's an old house a bit outside of town. It's abandoned. No one's been living there in ages."

Again she darted him a skeptical look. What was he up to?

She felt dizzy again and struggled to stay focused. She needed to think but she also needed to rest.

"Fine," she agreed, and he turned at the next intersection, leading them onto a smaller road.

For a while they drove in silence.

"So, who's Max?" he suddenly asked then.

"The nuclear bomb you mentioned earlier – he was the man behind it," she explained wearily. "Or one of them."

"So you knew him well," Nick insinuated.

"I only met him twice. Once to sell some information and the other time to introduce him to one of my contacts." She didn't even know why she was telling him. But she reckoned talking would keep her awake and focused.

"I guess that made it easier then."

She sighed in frustration. _Not again. _

"Not that it's any of your business or that it matters, but I had no idea he was even involved in the whole thing."

She felt him giving her a side glance.

"Then who did you think was involved?"

"You mean besides me?" She smirked. "I didn't know, and I didn't care. I just pieced together what I knew and played my cards the best I could."

"Seems it worked," he replied cynically.

_Yes. It did. _

"And CTU?" he asked after another short silence. "Seems a bit unlikely you didn't know why anyone would be interested in the schematics for a federal agency."

She rolled her eyes. He really seemed to know all the details. And she couldn't but wonder who his source was.

"Why? Why are you asking?"

"I just wonder. I mean, it would matter to me if I was being accused for something I didn't do. Not to mention if someone was trying to kill me."

She couldn't but smile at his naivety.

"You think they would have cared? You think they would have let us walk out? Or that anyone would care? That it would make any difference at all?" She shook her head.

"Right. And you don't care at all either, do you? Not even if people think…". He couldn't find the words.

"Think what? Worse of me than they should?" This would actually be amusing if she wasn't in so much pain. "Not being a mass-murderer doesn't make me a better person," she sneered but got tired of the whole discussion. "Don't be more naïve than you are. It doesn't suit you."

¤¤¤

He got the hint and kept quiet, using the time to process what his little interrogation had brought about.

_At least I got her to answer. To show some kind of reaction. _It was a breakthrough, more than he had ever gotten from her or seen anyone getting from her. _She's weak and tired. _And maybe she had reached a point where she actually wanted to explain herself to someone. Not on a conscious level maybe, but he had a hard time believing she really didn't care at all. Everybody needed some form of understanding, approval, recognition. It was simply human nature.

"What did you mean – one of them?" he asked, knowing he couldn't stop now but neither pressure her too much. There was a small chance and he had to be very careful not to ruin it.

"It's never just one person," she explained, sounding almost absent-minded. "There's someone with a plan, and then someone else, with money, with connections, others who feel their interests are at stake, and before you know of it, there's no longer one single person to call the shots…there's always much more playing into it, more than you can see or anyone wants to see." She gave him a side glance. "You should know."

"Yeah," he replied curtly. He had definitely seen more than he ever wanted to see. Just like she had apparently.

_That's why you left the NCS, isn't it?_ Suddenly he thought he could see the pieces falling into place. _That's why you joined CTU_. He hadn't actually pursued any specific tail when he had asked her about her career choices back then during the interrogation but later on he had really wondered.

"I guess you learnt that lesson long time before I did," he remarked with a sigh, trying to sound casual. "I'm guessing when you worked for the National Security Council."

No response and he could only hope he hadn't been too fast forward. If she shut down, he might have missed his one shot.

"What was it like?" he tried again in his best small talk voice. And he noticed her hesitating for a moment, staring down into her lap and then back out through the window.

"It surely teaches you a lot," she stated dryly.

"About the way of the world," he complemented sarcastically. "And about yourself."

He realized he wasn't so much pursuing a questioning technique but rather relating to her words. It made it easier in some way but it was also a risk. _Never let the subject take the lead in the discourse unless you can control it_, he reminded himself. _Never get carried away, never expose your own persona._ But it was hard to maintain a clear demarcation line. And he knew the standard procedures wouldn't work with her anyway. So he tried to…_go with the flow. _Hoping her weak state would keep her conversational a little longer before she would see what was going on.

"And it's funny," he continued, hoping she would relate to his words as well. "You think you know it all, what's expecting you, that nothing can shock you. But you don't really get it until you're right in the middle of it."

She seemed to think about it for a moment.

"Yeah, well, you lose, you learn," she commented disparagingly then.

He managed to hide the feeling of triumph that came over him. It was silly and again his ego making itself heard, but somehow it gave him satisfaction to see that he had been right. _You mean you lost and you learnt_, he thought, forcing himself not to look at her, afraid he would give himself away.

She had mocked him in Tunisia, as if he was stupid beating himself up over this, as if she couldn't relate to it at all. But she could. She had been there herself. Suddenly it all made sense. She had felt the same overwhelming helplessness and quit as well in a way, because she had realized it wasn't her world after all. Only she had taken a different turn than he had. And he couldn't stop wondering why.

Knowing there wasn't really a smart way around this, he changed his tactic and decided to be straight forward. They were close to their destination anyway and once they got interrupted, he would lose his window.

"So you learnt and joined Division," he stated, not taking his eyes off the road. "But I know what that's like, so, I guess, it wasn't the improvement you had hoped for."

She had turned her head around and was looking at him, and casting a quick glance at her he could see the suspicion in her eyes. _Yeah, think - what am I up to? _

"So you tried CTU," he kept pushing. "Thinking it's a less complex environment? That there can't be anything wrong or compromising about catching terrorists?"

She managed to maintain a blank expression but he could sense this time she had to make a real effort.

"And then what? It wasn't?"

He threw her a challenging look and she held his gaze, suddenly back to her normal self.

"Didn't we get a bit carried away there?" she asked, and despite the clear signs of pain in her face, the exhaustion, and the slight tremor in her voice, there was nothing weak about her anymore. She was back in control, at least over her mind.

"I mean, what is this? Are we really talking about me or is it more some sort of projective self-reflection? Cause I can only see one person here who's so desperately trying to find his place in life." She displayed the familiar condescending smile and he was glad the fact that they were still driving gave him an excuse to keep his eyes on the road. "Isn't that why you came to me? Because you needed to make sure who you are and what you want?"

And suddenly it was his turn to try and keep his composure, to make an effort not to let her see she had hit a nerve.

"All this talk about how you owe me," she sneered. "Did you try to be a stand-up guy, to be true to yourself? To prove that you can still do good although you failed once?"

He glanced at her again and she took a moment to let her eyes travel over his features, that scrutinizing look on her face he knew so well by now.

"And isn't that why you're still trying to break me now? Because you couldn't the first time?"

He wanted to dismiss it. Staring through the windshield he wanted to tell her she was wrong, to tell himself she was wrong. _She's just trying to manipulate me. She's turning the tables on me to divert attention from herself, to sidetrack me. _But she wasn't all wrong, was she?

He recognized the turn-off and pulled onto the dusty path, and a few moments later the trees thinned, exposing their destination.

"Is that it?" he heard her ask and followed her gaze. The old house still looked exactly the same, just like it had all those years ago.

"Yes," he answered curtly, slowing down and pulling into the driveway.

¤¤¤

Nina sank back into the cushions, trying to get into a comfortable position as she watched him walking around the room. He hadn't said a word since the car.

_Good. _Maybe she had put him into place.

She was still a bit angry. Not so much at him as more with herself. Why had she let him lure her like that, why admitted to his inquiry-response game? She knew what he was so why had she made it so easy for him?

She smothered a groan when her leg sent a new wave of pain through her body, shifting in the couch, her hand clutching the gun tighter that was resting next to her. This wasn't good.

_Calm down, don't panic. You just need to get some rest until you've figured out what to do._

She noticed him coming towards her and instinctively straightened up, immediately on alert. And a part of her was relieved that at least her reflexes were still intact.

"Let me take a look at that," he said, pretending to disregard the gun she had raised a little, and motioning at her leg.

"Are you a doctor now?" she replied mockingly.

For a moment he looked like he was going to argue with her, but then he let it go, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Fine."

She felt her arm getting heavy, suddenly weighing like lead, and she gladly lowered the gun again.

"You need fluid," he stated next. "I've seen a rain butt outside."

Knowing he was right, she didn't do anything to stop him, so he left, and closing her eyes for a moment she wondered if she simply didn't care if he tried to run again or if she was sure he wouldn't. He was back before she could come up with an answer.

"It's not exactly bottled water quality but it'll do," he explained, handing her what looked like an old flower pot. Avoiding to take a closer look at it, she gulped the cold liquid in one go, hoping it would show some effect. She still felt dizzy although she was resting, and she was sure she didn't look too good either. _And the weaker you seem, the more vulnerable you become. _

He reached out to take the now empty pot from her. "I'm going to get some more."

"Is this the boy scout in you?" she mocked but knew it was just a lame attempt to stay in control.

"I just don't want to be alone in this mess," he replied brusquely. "Cause, honestly, I wouldn't know how to explain any of it."

Again he motioned for her to hand him the pot, and she did, and he was gone again for a few moments.

_It's okay. If he wanted to try anything, he would have done it by now. _What better chances could he be waiting for? She hadn't been able to walk alone, let alone to fight him off if he had tried to attack her. It was okay. It was safe.

_Really? _Her lids suddenly felt like lead and she tore her eyes wide open. _Or is that just weakness talking?_ Cause maybe trusting him was not exactly the smartest thing to do. He hadn't hesitated to leave her behind with Travis, wounded, and then he hadn't hesitated either to tell Jared everything he knew or assumed he knew. His loyalty simply seemed to lie with the one who was most intimidating. And a gun was always a convincing argument. So maybe he was just waiting for a better chance.

She quickly checked on her leg and noticed the blood seeping through the fabrics of her pants. _Or maybe he hasn't tried anything yet because he's just a little too comfortable, knowing that you need him. _

He was back, and she drank slower this time, watching him walk over to one of the windows.

The problem was she couldn't quite figure him out yet, what he wanted. And given the way he was staring into space now, she guessed he didn't really know himself.

She had probably not been that far off earlier in the car – he was trying to do what's right. Only he couldn't seem to decide which right. What was right for him or right in a more general perspective, right in accordance with his morals or according to the law. And she wondered where this struggle originated from.

The nausea came back and she felt lightheaded, and realized she wouldn't be holding up much longer. _But you have to! _The alternative was just not acceptable. Not with him being around, not without… . She shook her head, trying to fight the feeling of faintness, trying to force her body to obey her will but deep down knowing already she wouldn't succeed. _Come on, stay awake, just a little longer._ She tried to straighten up.

"What happens next?" she heard him ask, still standing by the window with his back turned on her, and she raised her arm, trying to train the gun on him when her view got blurry. _You have to… _She had to do something before it was too late. Cause what would he do once she was out? She couldn't take the risk, she couldn't allow him to… . _Do it! _

"What happens when it's dark?" she heard his voice through the midst, and a silly thought flashed her mind, right before everything went black.

_When it's dark,_ _the monsters are coming out to play. _

¤¤¤

"What happens next?" he wanted to know, tired of dancing around it. She had told him she wanted to cross the border? Fine. She could go all the way to China for all he cared. But what was going to happen to him? He didn't want to wait or guess any longer. He needed to know.

"What happens when it's dark?" he asked, and turned around when she didn't answer, just in time to see her head dropping back, her eyes fluttering shut, and she fell back into the cushions.

_She passed out. _

He took a deep breath. And just stood there for a while, insecure what to do, not even sure what to think. He was relieved, of course. This meant that he was safe. _It means I'm in control_. And he marveled at the feeling, somehow expecting it to be better though.

He sighed, and walked over to the couch, where he stopped and stared down at her. Was she alright?

She was definitely out, her skin color an unhealthy white except for a red smear in her face from when she had touched the makeshift bandage around her leg and then ran a hand over her forehead. He had glimpsed it earlier but now, for some reason, he couldn't take his eyes off of it. Lying there, she suddenly seemed smaller, her features not relaxed but less harsh and scheming, and he couldn't shake the thought of an injured bird.

_Jesus, what's wrong with me?_ He had to come to his senses.

He bent forward and took the gun out of her hand, checking her pulse while he watched her chest rising and falling in a somewhat steady rhythm. She seemed okay under the circumstances.

He straightened up again and took a last look at her before he turned around and walked outside to sit on the doorstep, watching the sun descending somewhere over the tree line.

Absentmindedly, his fingers started playing with the gun, stroking the cold metal of the barrel while his mind was racing. He had to make his decision now, as long as she was still out. _And as long as she's still alive. _Passing out was certainly not a good sign and it didn't take a doctor to tell him that a bullet in the leg wasn't healthy. Just like it wouldn't take a jurist either to tell him what was the right and the only right thing to do.

_Someone help me_, he thought to himself, running a hand through his hair and suddenly feeling awfully alone. Finally, he put the gun down next to him and reached into his pocket, fumbling for his cell phone.


	12. Part 9

_Some hours later, past midnight…

* * *

_

**d2**: **+ 21 months**

**d3**:** − 1 year, 3 months**

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* * *

**

Part IX: Prove me right, prove me wrong

* * *

A car drove by in the distance and Nick held his breath for a moment. Seeing it pass the turn-off, the backlights soon disappearing in the darkness he relaxed though. He leaned against the doorframe and lit another cigarette. It was his third already.

He took a deep drag, and closing his eyes, he held the smoke in his lungs for a moment, knowing the nicotine was actually increasing all his vital functions but welcoming the false impression that it made him calmer. _Nothing better than self-deception. _

He heard footsteps behind him and when he felt someone standing next to him held out the cigarette.

"I'm sorry I'm dragging you into this," he muttered, keeping his eyes closed a little longer.

"Cut it out," Phil grumbled annoyed, resting against the doorframe as well now, and Nick could hear him blowing smoke circles into the night sky. "I thought went over that on the phone."

_Right. _They had. Not with words but with that tacit understanding they had shared ever since childhood. _Ever since… _

"Want a souvenir?"

He looked up and saw Phil holding something in his hand, studying the tiny object as if he was mesmerized by its efficiency.

"You got it out?"

"Yeah," Phil sighed, tossing him the bullet. "She got lucky. No damage that can't be fixed except for the scar. She'll have to live with that."

_One more or less, I'm sure she won't mind_.Nick smirked.

"Hey, I'm a doctor but I can't do miracles around here," Phil got defensive, misinterpreting the expression in his friend's face. "I was lucky I could see enough to know what I was doing."

"I know, I know," Nick hurried to assure. "I didn't mean it that way."

Phil frowned but remained silent although he had to have a hundred questions. _But he won't ask. _

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Sometimes he couldn't but wonder if they would be as close and relying if things had been differently back then. He had wanted to bring it up a couple of times but never known how to phrase it. And in the end he had always convinced himself that some things better remained where they belonged - in the past.

"Look, the cops are going to check with every doctor and every hospital in the area. I can't ask you to –" he tried but, again, Phil cut him off.

"You don't have to. Besides, I'm not doing myself a favor if I tell anyone, am I? I mean, I heard about the shootout, I can do the math. I don't think anyone would believe me if I said I didn't get suspicious about this." He held out the cigarette. "I don't know who she is and I don't know what she did, and I sure as hell have no idea how you got in the middle of all this. But if you think it's better for me not to know – then that's fine by me."

"It is better," Nick affirmed, taking the cigarette from his friend's hand. "For both of us to be honest cause I wouldn't know how to explain it anyway."

"Works for me."

They fell silent for a moment, sharing what was left of the cigarette before Phil stubbed it out.

"Anyway, I gave her something for the pain. Should keep her asleep a little longer. But once she wakes up…well, I'll leave you some of the good stuff." He grinned and Nick couldn't but laugh.

"You got some of that for me too?"

"Sure, what do you need," Phil joked back. "Got a bag full with free samples in the trunk."

"And there's the explanation to your choice of profession."

"Right."

Again neither of them spoke for a while, both marveling at the strange sensation of being back and the memories it revived.

"Are you happy?" Phil suddenly broke the silence.

"What?" Nick almost laughed.

"I mean, are you alright. Is your life…is it good?"

"Hm." To be honest he had been trying to avoid that question for a while now. "It is good," he shrugged. "It could be better. But I'm getting by." He hesitated. "Why do you ask?"

"Eileen wondered."

_I'm sure she's not the only one. _

"Last night when you left after dinner. You know how she is."

He did and he didn't. He had only met Phil's wife at a few occasions. But each time he saw her together with Phil, he knew he didn't have to ask his friend whether he was doing alright or not. It was obvious.

"Does she know?" He had never asked. "Did you tell her about…"

"No," Phil replied, determined and an idea brusque. "No," he repeated then, his voice softer. "Thought about it a couple of times. But I put it past me so why burdening her."

Nick didn't say anything but immediately felt Phil's eyes on him, looking for a reaction.

"I know what you're thinking. You think I didn't tell her because I'm afraid. Of what she might do, of what she might think of me. But that's not it."

Nick looked up and was surprised to find a smile on his friend's face.

"I know she loves me. Every stupid, stubborn part of me. And…I don't know if she would understand. But I know she wouldn't stop loving me."

"And that's enough?" Nick couldn't stop himself from asking.

"That's enough," Phil nodded. "I think she knows there's something I'm not telling her. But she never asked, so, I figured it's not important to her. She'd love me anyway, regardless of what I did in the past. As long as I am the person I am today."

Nick didn't know what to say and stared down at his feet. He envied the way Phil had simply let things go. He envied his ease. _I always have. I wish I could go on like that._

He heard Phil clearing his throat and looked up.

"Are you sure you don't want to –".

"It's too risky, Phil. We're fine here for now. And we won't stay long."

Phil nodded. "Give me a call if you need anything else."

"I will," Nick assured, knowing he wouldn't. Phil had already done enough to get himself into deep trouble, he wouldn't bother him again.

"Well, Eileen knows I'm with you so she won't be worried, but I should get going. Just in case anyone is knocking our door tonight, I guess it's better if I'm home."

"Yeah."

"Let me just get you those painkillers before I leave."

¤¤¤

Suddenly she was awake. And before her mind could recall any details, something warned her not to move. So she lay still.

Someone was there, very close. She could hear the breathing and the rustle of clothes. And the same moment her memory came back, she felt a hand at her throat. Jerking her eyes open, she grabbed it firmly.

"I was just going to check your pulse," Nick stated calmly, looking down at her, "but as I can see you're doing just fine."

She lifted her head up and quickly glanced around the room. But there was no one else there. And turning back to Nick she hesitantly let go of his wrist.

She was lying on the old couch now, Nick sitting next to her on the edge.

She hadn't shot him.

She had passed out.

And unless it hadn't been more than a few minutes, he hadn't called anyone.

She looked around again and noticed it was dark outside. _It must have been hours. They would have been here a long time ago. _She felt relieved but also instantly alarmed again. It was unlikely she should have been out that long if she had simply fainted. And shifting slightly to get into a more comfortable position, she realized the pain in her leg was almost gone.

She stared at him, waiting for an explanation, but he didn't offer one, just kept looking back at her with this calm expression on his face. _Too calm._ He clearly wasn't going to spare her to ask.

"What did you give me?"

Her voice sounded husky, another indicator that she had been out quite some time, and she swallowed to clear her throat.

"I didn't give you anything. But the guy who pulled the bullet out of your leg did. I'm guessing some sort of morphine."

Her eyes wandered down to her leg and she noticed the bandage around it. Clean, proper, and hardly coming from the first aid box in her car. So he had called someone. And since they were alone again now, he had probably let him go.

"Don't worry," Nick sneered, obviously anticipating her line of thought. "You don't _have_ to go after him. He's not going to tell anyone."

He was mocking her but also seemed to be sincere. Insecure for a second, she frowned.

"What did you do?"

It earned her another, even wider smirk.

"Nothing you would have done."

He got up and took a few steps across the room, her eyes following him. _Of course you haven't. You're not me._

She shrugged the thought off, trying to focus. There was something else she needed to know. Something even more important.

Why hadn't he turned her in? Why wasn't she in restrains already? It seemed he had been honest back at the hotel, he had never tried to set her up. But what did he want now? What was he waiting for? He had been close to getting shot twice and been held at gunpoint several times. Every halfway sane person would have taken off the first chance they got. She knew she would have. So why was he still around? What did he want?

She turned her head to have a closer look at him standing by the window, looking out, and she discovered her gun, lying next to him on the ledge. Maybe she had found her answer.

As if he had felt her glare in his back, he turned around. And shoving his hands in his pockets, tilting his head a little, he simply stared back at her.

_Why? _she wondered, but refused to formulate the question while it was obvious that he was waiting for just that. Knowing, of course, that it would be a tiny victory.

Was that it? Had he lured her here to be alone with her, taken care of her wound to make sure she wasn't too weak for another round of questioning? Was it still all about him breaking her? Could he be that obsessed about it?

She frowned, still sustaining his gaze just like he resisted hers.

All she knew was that - despite his claim that he just wanted to warn her - he had asked an awful lot of questions. And now he had helped her escape and was hiding her. And he wasn't stupid enough not to be aware of the consequences. By not calling the cops he was making himself liable to prosecution. Harboring a fugitive was a punishable offense. So why should he risk that much? Just to finish that interrogation? It seemed unlikely, but maybe she had underestimated his ego. Maybe she had made yet another mistake.

"It's interesting," he suddenly broke the silence and revealed a sneer. "You seem much more talkative when you're the one in control." He reached out and picked up the gun, weighing it in his hands in an almost playful manner. And she couldn't but tense a little bit. "See, for me it seems to be the opposite. I found that out today. I get a lot chattier when someone is aiming one of these at me." He looked up and met her eyes again. "You wouldn't know, of course, cause every time we meet I do most of the talking. But let's just say that's more the exception than the rule." Turning his attention to the gun again, he took a few steps across the room. "For example, I didn't feel like sticking around and be part of that little reunification with your friends at the hotel," he continued in a conversational tone. "But once I realized that - Jared? - that he was going to kill me, I quickly changed my mind. I suddenly really felt like talking. Now, I guess _that's_ more the rule than the exception."

He looked up again and she quickly displayed a bored expression. But knowing he wasn't just rambling on because he liked the sound of his own voice, she couldn't but be curious where he was going with this.

"So, coming from there, I can see some things a little clearer. At Division, you wouldn't talk to me because you didn't want to and there was nothing I could do to force you. And later on, when they tried to force you, I'm guessing, you estimated that you still had more to gain from keeping quiet. Until the day that bomb was supposed to go off. You saw a chance, you took it."

_He's still just warming up. _It was obvious. He had more to come with than walking her through her own past decisions.

"So, I think it's safe to establish that you really don't reveal anything unless you want to. Unless you think there's something in it for you. I mean, pain obviously isn't a convincing argument either." He stopped, folding his hands across his chest and looking at her. "But I heard threatening your life showed some success."

Once again she had to wonder where he had gotten his information from. Someone at Division? Someone he had used to work with? _Chappelle would fly into a tantrum if he knew someone's leaking out classified information_, she thought amused in the back of her mind.

"Isn't that right? When it's all or nothing, you at least reveal a minimum of information. Not more than what you think is really necessary but at least something. Enough to stay alive." Once more he played with the gun in his hands, lightly stroking over the barrel. "So maybe I should try that," he stated casually, slowly riveting his eyes on her and then raising his arm and targeting her. "Would that get me your cooperation?"

_Cooperation? _She frowned and took a deep breath but didn't show any sign of worry. She wasn't even sure if she should feel any.

"What do you want?" she asked, imparting a somewhat annoyed intonation to her voice. And he held her gaze for a moment, before he sighed in played frustration and let his arm drop down again.

"See, that's the problem," he complained sarcastically. "You're just not taking me serious. You don't think I'm capable of killing you. Probably not even of hurting you."

Did she? A couple of hours ago she wouldn't have. But now she suddenly wasn't too sure anymore. She still couldn't see an explanation for any of his recent actions, including this slightly remarkable performance.

_No, he's not_, a voice inside her head argued. _He's not capable of hurting anyone on purpose. _And he surely wasn't a killer. _But it was his job to send people off to being tortured. He sent you off to getting tortured. Did you forget that? _

She hadn't. But it was something completely different to sign some documents and watch than to inflict pain on someone with your own hands. Plus, he hadn't exactly liked that side of the job. It was the reason why he had quit. And looking in his eyes now, she was almost sure. _He's not gonna hurt you. _

"Alright," he sighed, darting a last glance at the gun in his hand. "We both know I'm not. So I'm not gonna pretend I am."

And without a warning he suddenly tossed the gun to her.

¤¤¤

It threw her. He could tell. And although she managed to catch the gun, she just stared at it as if she suddenly didn't know what to do with it.

"Exciting twist," he stated with an ambiguous smile on his face, wondering though if he had lost his mind to go this far.

But he felt encouraged by her reaction. Looking startled and confused she failed to maintain her composure, and although she still remained silent he was sure that it – for once – was for a lack of words rather than intentionally.

"Now we're gonna find out, aren't we?"

_Find out what?_ he could read in her face.

"Something, everything," he explained, and let a second pass before he continued to maximize the effect of his words. "Whether there's still some part in you that's human."

And again she couldn't hide her reaction well enough, staring at him in sheer disbelief.

"And whether it's stronger than the rest of you," he kept going, knowing this was his last chance. It was either now or probably never. "We both know I can't kill you, and why should I? We also know that you, on the other hand, are perfectly capable of killing me - If you think you have to. But I don't think you'll do it. Not after everything that's happened."

She sneered, finally showing that well-familiar smile again.

"Really? Is that why you got me a doctor? Should I be so grateful now that –".

"No," he cut her off, smiling back at her. "I got you a doctor because you needed one. That's all," he clarified. "I know this sounds weird to you, and in your world it's probably…completely absurd. But in my world, it just makes perfect sense."

She gave him a patronizing look, but he could tell she wasn't that unmoved. She was faltering. Her rock-solid facade was disintegrating.

"What I meant was something else. When I met you at Division, I wasn't sure whether you really didn't have any emotions or were just perfect at hiding them. Now I know. At some point, maybe that night, maybe a long time before that, you realized that emotions are a weakness, no matter how good you are at disguising them. So you simply stopped having any. Or at least you tried. But it's not working anymore, is it?"

For a second he could see her struggle before she managed to maintain an unreadable expression on her face, trying not to give herself away. But it was enough for him.

"I saw your face when we found that woman in the hotel," he continued. "You were disgusted. And I kept asking myself: why? Why would the death of a complete stranger bother you? Someone you probably would have killed yourself if she hadn't been dead already. And it wasn't before we were in the car that it hit me: that was just it. You knew that if you wanted to get out of this mess without letting anyone know that you were involved, that you were even in the country, breaking your pardon, et cetera – it wouldn't be enough to just erase your name from the guest list. You would have had to kill anyone who could have identified you. You would have been…forced," he emphasized the word, "…to kill her. And that, for some reason, appalled you."

He was right. He knew it, saw it in her face. In the smile that wasn't there anymore, in the complete absence of mockery. He was right. _Got you! _And he couldn't deny it felt just a little bit good to see her like that. But there was no time to indulge in the feeling.

"And then in the car – boy, that must have been the first time ever you actually got an idea defensive although you had the situation under control. I mean, you had the gun," he mocked her. "Was it the injury? Did the pain make you weak, did I catch you off guard?"

She still didn't object, and with every second that she remained silent he felt more secure. It wasn't just his imagination. At least a part of his conclusions were accurate.

"And last but not least – the very fact that I'm still alive. Why is that?"

"Why don't you tell me?" she retorted.

"I'm not sure. I said and did enough today to really piss you off. Now, I know you're not acting on emotions, so, you wouldn't kill me just for that, would you? But even from a rational point of view – you'd have to kill me. If you let me walk and I do as much as mention your name in connection to today's…incident…you're screwed. They start digging, they'll find something. And I'm guessing you're not just worried about jeopardizing your pardon. Cause if you were, you simply could have avoided all the trouble by staying away. But since you're here, I'm assuming becoming a fugitive again is the least of your problems. I thought it's just Jack but obviously there are more people after you. So, to sum up: it doesn't make sense that I'm still alive. Not when I apply your way of reasoning."

She shook her head, producing a thin but nonetheless condescending smile again.

"Are you asking me to kill you again? I thought we'd been over your alleged suicidal tendencies."

"Now, having said all that," he ignored her remark, "let me get back to my original hypothesis. I don't think you're going to kill me."

"And you're so sure of that because…?"

"Because it would mean that I'm wrong, that there's nothing human left in you. And I don't think I am."

She raised her brows in surprise.

"And you're willing to bet your life on that?" she sneered but he simply smiled back at her. He was sure.

She frowned, not saying anything else, but he noticed the change in her expression. The way her eyes suddenly stared more intensely, scrutinizing him, studying him, as if there was something specific she was looking for. She seemed concentrated and thoughtful and he did his best to hold her gaze, all the while starting to feel just a little bit uncomfortable.

"What?" he finally asked, realizing she was about to stare him down. And she took her time before she spoke.

"I'm guessing it was something in your childhood. Not too early though. You were already old enough to understand the consequences of what happened. And you struggled with them."

Holding his breath, he tried to control his features but felt them petrifying nonetheless. He hadn't seen it coming.

"You didn't get traumatized," she stated, tilting her head to give him a patronizing look, "but it changed you. Resulted in that interest in criminal psychology and your overly strong developed sense of justice. What is it you were trying to fathom? What are you trying to explain and make up for so hard?"

"Is this the good old story about how every psychologist has a screw lose himself?" he asked, still trying not to let her see what effect her words had on him although he knew he failed.

He had been prepared for her to try and turn the tables on him, to show him that she, after all, was good at this too. But he realized now he hadn't thought it all the way through. _No, I simply underestimated her. _

"You probably were a good and ambitious student before. I'd say you were a very serious kid, didn't have too many friends your own age, probably got along with adults much better. But you started working even harder now that you had a goal," she continued, taking her turn in ignoring his comment. "Your parents must have been really proud, especially since you are their only child."

He tried to sneer, telling himself at least that part hadn't been too hard to guess.

"Did my ego give me away?"

"I'm sure your mum tried the best she could to countervail it. Your dad was probably working a lot, but she stayed at home to raise you. The idyll of a middleclass family. You weren't rich but you had everything you needed and a little more."

It was true. _Of course it's true. _What had he been expecting? She knew her business just as well as he did.

"I guess I just don't look like I've ever experienced poverty."

"And although your grades must have earned you a scholarship and paved the way for college your parents probably supported you financially anyway."

He cast his eyes down. They had. In a way.

"And I'm guessing they still do. I mean, last time we met I didn't get the impression that you had a regular job. And although you complained about the lousy payment at Division, I don't think that really ever bothered you that much either. Are they proud to have a son who's working for the government?"

"I wouldn't know," he retorted before he could stop himself from saying it out loud. "They died before I got the job."

She tilted her head to the other side, looking at him as if she had just unveiled another piece of a puzzle.

"Then it wasn't them you were afraid to disappoint."

_It wasn't?_ He didn't know anymore. And again he cast his eyes down for a second, angry at himself for letting things get so out of hand. For letting her get back in control. Just when he had had her where he wanted. But it wasn't too late yet. He made a point to heave a sigh and looked up again, holding her gaze with ease.

"Are we done yet?"

"Not quite," she replied.

"Well, then feel free to go ahead without me. Cause I'm leaving now," he stated, and saw her clutching the gun a little tighter. Maybe a reflex, maybe an attempt to intimidate him. He didn't care. "Unless you tell me I was wrong."

"Tell you?" she asked amused, raising her arm with the gun, and leveling it with his head.

"I forgot. You rather don't talk too much." He sneered a last time. "Prove me wrong then. Prove to me that you can kill me just like that. And don't forget to tell yourself that you _had_ to do it. Because you couldn't trust me when I said you can. You couldn't let your life depend on something that is as vague as another human being. Better to be on the safe side – even if it means the prize for staying alive is dying inside. There's really nothing left of you anyway. Right?"

And with that he simply turned around, making his way to the door.

He knew there wouldn't be a shot, but when he had crossed the threshold without hearing a sound, he took a deep breath. Smiling to himself he kept walking until he felt it was safe.

¤¤¤

She had played it cool during his little closing statement, displayed a slight smirk and held his gaze without blinking. But now she frowned, staring after him as he walked to the door with his back turned on her as if there was nothing to it. As if there was nothing she could do to stop him. He seemed really sure of himself. _A bit too sure, _she thought, lifting her chin up a little more while her arm almost automatically followed his moves to keep the gun trained on him. And letting her eyes focus on the weapon in her hand, she suddenly understood. There really was nothing she could do.

She watched him taking the last few steps and marveled at the feeling inside her. She should be angry, at least a little bit. At him for playing her like this and most of all at herself for not understanding it right away. But there was nothing. She couldn't even feel worried about having made yet another mistake. Maybe it had been so many already, one more or less didn't really matter. _And if human error defines humanity, you don't have to worry about whether you're part of it. _

He was gone and she let the gun sink into her lap, looking at it for a moment and smirking to herself before she ejected the clip. It was empty.

She slammed it back in. He had wanted to test her but even he wasn't insane enough to put his life on the line just to prove that he was right.

Was he? He probably believed so now since she hadn't pulled the trigger. _The clicking sound that never came._ But only because she had known, because she had figured it out. No point in trying to fire a gun that wasn't loaded.

_Really? _Was that all? Then how come she had hesitated long enough to figure it out? Why hadn't she shot him - or tried to at least – the moment he had moved towards the door? The moment he had tossed her the gun actually. Or before she had passed out.

Maybe because she had taken those few seconds to think it through, to go over it again before doing something so irreversible. She was hiding after all – firing around wasn't the best way of laying low. And she was injured. She might still need his help. There had been a hundred reasons for her to hesitate, good reasons, important reasons. She had to stop second-guessing herself. It was pointless anyway. What was more important now was to solve the problem.

She reached for the second clip she was usually carrying on her but found it gone. Nick had probably discovered it when they had taken her coat off. Or maybe he had been smart enough to search her. Either way – the gun was useless to her for the moment.

"Looking for those?"

She jerked her head up and found him standing by the door again, holding out his hand, showing her the bullets in his palm. _Great. _Now she even allowed him to sneak up on her like that.

"I guess you'll need them sooner or later since you're not that popular at the moment."

She didn't say anything, but his mockery started to seriously annoy her. Not acting on emotions? She would have considered making an exception for him right about now. There weren't too many people provoking that reaction in her. _Actually only one. _

"You'll understand if I don't bring them over to you," he continued, holding his position in the doorway. "But if you really need them so badly - why don't you get them yourself?" And with that he simply tilted his hand, slowly letting the projectiles drop to the floor.

She watched them scatter around his feet, and when her eyes met his again, she really had to struggle to keep a straight face.

"Good luck, then," he stated, and turned to leave again, but stopped a last time, reaching into his pocket. "Oh, I forgot: painkillers for the leg." He held the small jar out and waited for her to react, and when she didn't dropped them as well. "Suit yourself."

This time she waited. Staring at the bullets, she strained her ears, listening to his footsteps outside and then to the silence that finally convinced her that he was really gone. _By foot. _He had left the car. _The perfect gentleman. _

It was an automatic, she could drive with one leg. _It's quite a bit to walk, you can still catch up with him. _But remembering where it had gotten her the last time she had acted on her anger, she pushed the thought out of her mind. If she hadn't tried to kill Jack, she would have walked away with her original deal and none of this mess would ever have happened. No Africa, no getting back in, no hiding and sneaking around. _Yeah, if you would still be alive. _

She took a deep breath and sat up, carefully letting her leg slide off the couch. Another deep breath when her foot touched the ground, a smothered groan when she put some weight on it. Painkillers suddenly seemed like not such a bad idea.

She got up, holding her breath at the instant reward, pain ripping through her body. _It's okay. It means you're still alive. _It meant she was lucky she hadn't been hit worse. _And that he got you a doctor._

Slowly, limping, she moved away from the couch and towards the bullets, almost getting there but then collapsing to the floor when she was just a few feet away. _It's not okay. _

She stayed still for a moment, calming her breath, lying on her side. Her gaze brushed over the painkillers Nick had left, but she forced herself to tear her eyes off of them. She had no idea what exactly they would do to her and she couldn't afford to get knocked out again or slowed down by some drug running through her system.

She moved a little bit, once again ejecting the magazine, and then collected the bullets one by one and put them back where they belonged. Once she was done, she cocked the gun, satisfied at the reassuring sound.

_You had the situation under control_, she suddenly heard Nick's mocking voice in her mind. _You had the gun. _And still glancing at the piece of metal in her hand, she swallowed, trying to get rid off the bitter aftertaste.

Here she was, holding on to the damn thing as if it was her only friend. And in a sad way that was maybe true. The gun meant power, meant control. And in the end it always came down to that. It seemed to be all her life was about. Had it ever been different? _Yes, it was. _But it seemed such a long time ago, she barely recalled what it felt like.

She sighed and rolled over onto her back, and staring at the ceiling she remembered something she hadn't thought of in all those years. _Indifference to human life_. Words she had repeated in her mind to detach herself from what had been going on around her. From Nick, the interrogation, from him reminding her of what she had done. _A person commits the crime of murder if he, with intent, causes the death of another person, or under circumstances manifests extreme indifference to human life._

She had done both. She was indifferent to human life. Killing was no pleasure but if her life was depending on it… _Well, not completely indifferent then_, she thought. _Not when it's my life_.

_I saw your face_, she heard Nick again, still rambling on inside her head. She couldn't stop him. _You were disgusted. _

So what? Maybe she had been. Did that make him right? Was there some humanity left in her? Hadn't she stopped detecting any trace of it a long time ago?


	13. Part 10

_Three weeks later…

* * *

_

**d2**: **+ 23 months**

**d3**:** − 1 year, 1 month**

**

* * *

**

Part X: Standing still

* * *

Tilting her head back, Nina allowed the water to rain down on her face, lingering in the warmth that enclosed her. And for a moment her world was still and small, and all she had to do was simply being. She felt lightheaded and turned the water off.

Stepping out of the shower, she reached for the towel and started to rub her hair dry, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. Pausing, she watched her pale figure staring back at her, let her eyes travel over her face, exploring her features, lower then, over her shoulders, her chest and belly, and all the way down her body and back up again.

_This is what you've become._

She turned around, slowly, her gaze brushing over the scars, recognizing each one of them, counting them, reassuring the number was still the same. _One more now. _

She took a step back and sat down on the edge of the bathtub, looking down at her leg and the latest, freshest mark she had earned. She felt the need to touch it and let her fingers slide over it, feeling the rough scar tissue that was building. It wasn't pretty but it looked alright. It healed well.

_If you could say that about everything else as well.._.

She pulled her hand away, quickly as if she had burnt herself, and looked up and away, trying to shake the disconcerting thought off, stemming the entire chain of thoughts that she feared to be attached to it. Remembering she had an appointment to keep, she got up again and walked over to the pile of clothes she had left on the floor. She found her watch next to it and checked the time. Still enough time to get ready.

Dressed in clean clothes, she walked into the living room a few minutes later and sat down at the computer. Right on time. A window popped up on her screen, notifying her of the incoming call. She ran a hand through her still wet hair, combing a strand behind her ear before she activated the transmission. Another window opened up, showing the images of both her own web cam and his. A normal phone call would have done it for her, but he wanted it this way so why bother.

"How's it going over there?"

She would have skipped the small talk as well, but then again, she knew it wasn't just that.

"I'm good," she stated matter-of-factly and let him have a long close look at her, allowing him to see for himself that she was fine. After all, his strong interest could only be a good sign. It had nothing to do with emotional concern, of course, but it could mean that he thought of her as valuable. Maybe he was finally trusting her again. Not unconditionally or unquestioningly, but maybe enough to assign her to a real job again. Once she was back in shape. As for the moment she was still recovering, and cautious as he was he wouldn't rush things. He never did. This was the first time he contacted her directly again. Which could only mean that he assessed the situation to be safe. Contacting her was no longer a risk. _No one's after you. _

He seemed satisfied and ended his visual inspection.

"It will please you to hear that we identified the leak Travis mentioned to you."

"Who?"

"Let's just say it's been taken care of."

She nodded.

_Very well_, she thought, suddenly noticing she didn't really care anyway. Someone had sold her out and now paid for it. She didn't need to know more.

_Don't need to or don't want to? _

"The feds are still investigating the incident at the hotel but there's nothing indicating that your name came up anywhere," he confirmed her assumption, and she was smart enough to display some sign of relief. She should be concerned about this.

_You really oughta be. _

"Is there anything else we could or should do to keep it that way? Anything pointing your way?" he asked, his voice mellow but insistent. But she had been prepared for the question and answered appropriately – not too quickly, not too hesitatingly, not saying more than necessary.

"No."

Again he took a moment to study her face, trying to see if there was anything she was hiding from him. _There isn't_, she told herself, blocking all other thoughts from her mind. He couldn't see what wasn't there. And it seemed to work.

"Good," he said. "Take your time to recover. I'll be in touch."

She nodded, and when he ended the transmission, she reached for the keyboard to shut the program down. Folding her arms then, she kept staring at the blank screen.

_Anything pointing your way?_ the question echoed in her ears. _There isn't. _

She had no problem lying to him, she had done it before. But this time it was different. She had been lying by not telling him about Jack, and there was a good reason for that. But keeping quiet about Nick, a witness who could bring her down any time he wanted to, a witness she had let walk away – it was something else.

_No, it's not. _Actually it was exactly the same. She didn't want him to know because it would jeopardize her job prospects.

She shook her head. Whom was she kidding – it would do much more than that. Once her employer knew about either one of them, there would only be one option left to her. She would have to kill them, and deep down she knew she wasn't ready to go that way yet. Not if she could avoid it. _You're getting weak. _Or maybe she always had been in some regards.

_Nick's not gonna bring you down_, she told herself, diverting her attention from the implications of her realizations _He would only get himself in trouble, considering his own part in the whole thing_. But it probably wasn't what was stopping him. She couldn't get her head around him and it was bugging her. She would feel a whole lot better if…

_Get over it. _It had almost been a month. If he had wanted to tell anyone, he would have done it by now. But he hadn't and that was all that mattered.

She turned her head and looked out through the window. She could contact Amador again. She had given him the headlines about what had happened at the hotel, and unlike some other people he didn't seem to be worried to do business with her. Her leg was alright and she was eager to work. Anything but sitting around and staring at the walls. Anything but thinking about what had happened.

_Nick. _Nick and his mind-games. She had to stop thinking about it. She had to get him out of her head and get on with…with whatever it was she was doing.

¤¤¤

Nick watched the raindrops running down the window pane, clinging to the glass as if to hide from the wind that was tearing at them to take them away. For a strange moment he could relate to the feeling.

_Feeling? _He shook his head. _There's something seriously wrong when you start thinking about the feeling of raindrops, my friend!_

"Hello?" Phil's voice came from a distance, and Nick brought the receiver closer to his ear again.

"Hey there."

"Nick! Finally. Not that easy to get a hold of you. I must have left like a hundred messages."

"Yeah, I know. I was away for a while. Just got back today," he lied, instantly feeling bad about it. He had actually been back for two days already.

"Away? Where have you been?"

"Here and there, driving around. No specific place really." This was more or less true.

"Oh boy, you got a life," Phil sighed.

_Yeah, I'm living a dream_, Nick thought sarcastically.

"So what's up? Something happened?" he asked, not expecting a positive answer though. None of Phil's messages had sounded alarmingly urgent.

"Nothing much, I was just wondering how you're doing."

"Sure," Nick laughed, knowing of course what Phil really wanted. He was waiting for an explanation. Which was why he hadn't returned his calls earlier. He didn't know what to tell his friend.

"How's my patient?"

_Here we go. _

"Fine, I guess."

"You don't know?"

"Nope. Haven't seen her since that night."

"Really?" Phil sounded surprised.

"Really," Nick confirmed. "Why?"

"Well, you know, I just thought…I mean…I thought there was something going on there."

He didn't know whether he should be shocked or amused at the idea.

"No, Phil, there's definitely nothing going on there," he stated with a sigh, knowing he couldn't just leave it at that.

"So, you're telling me you got into the middle of a shoot-out and helped someone who obviously was involved in it to hide from the cops, but the fact that she's a beautiful woman has nothing to do with it?"

_A beautiful woman? _Those were probably the last words he would have expected anyone to use when describing Nina Myers. _Well, he doesn't know her. He doesn't know who she is. What she is. _

"That's exactly what I'm telling you."

"Well, then you're either lying or you lost me."

Nick shook his head, stifling another sarcastic laughter.

"What did you get yourself into anyway?" Phil asked before he could think of anything to say. "The FBI was all over the place, the news stations were camping –"

"Yeah, I watched TV," Nick cut him short.

"Then you saw that bogus about two prisoners who escaped from a high security institution and got killed and a third person who got away? The whole thing smells cover-up."

Nick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Look, Phil, I know you risked a lot by helping me and you deserve some answers, but I really can't tell you what happened."

"Yeah, yeah, for my own safety," Phil sighed. "I got that. And I already told you it's alright. But I'm not asking you what happened. I just wonder how you got into all that. I mean, I wasn't the only one who risked a lot."

_No, you certainly weren't._

"Truth to be told – I'm worried about you," Phil continued. "You're my best friend. We used to tell each other…well, everything."

Nick ran a hand through his hair, turning away from the window he had been standing in front of and starting to pace his apartment. Suddenly the past was right there again. _Everything. _It was true but the word still had a whole different meaning and they both knew it. They both knew what it was really referring to. The one thing no one else knew, no living soul but them.

"See, if you really can't tell me, that's okay. I won't ask any more questions. I just need to know that you're alright. And if you're not, then I want to know if there's anything I can do."

Nick stopped pacing, shoving his free hand in his pocket.

"Has this something to do with your work for the government? I know you can't -"

"Yes," Nick finally broke his silence. "It has. The woman I helped, you helped – I know her from back then. And the reason I helped her was because…" _Yes? _"Because I had to." It was as insufficient an explanation as it could get, but he didn't have anything better to offer. Neither to Phil, nor to himself. "But she's out of my life now and everything's alright. You don't have to worry."

Was that the truth? Or was he just lying to Phil for the second time? Was there nothing to worry about? Was she out of his life?

_Yes, she is. _

It was silent for a moment as Phil seemed to contemplate what he had just been told.

"Okay," he said then, signaling that it was all he needed to know. "So, since you don't seem to have any obligations for the moment and a lot of spare time - when are we going to see you again?" he abruptly changed the subject, and Nick was grateful.

"Well, actually, something just came up. I ran into an old colleague and he sort of talked me into something."

"A job?"

"No, a book. He's editing it and asked me to contribute a few chapters, so, I said yes."

"Good for you. So, you're gonna stay home for a while now?"

"No, actually he also offered me to drive up to his cabin and work there. You know, just me and nature."

"Well, either he really trusts you to let you stay at his place or he really doesn't," Phil chuckled. "Probably thinks you won't get anything done unless you're safely away from all possible distractions. Beautiful women included."

Nick laughed. Burton hadn't said anything but it was probably close to the truth. After all, Nick had let him down before when he had turned down his job offer. And to be honest, he had been surprised Burton was giving him this chance now. But his former mentor was probably still hoping that he could win him back to the academic world. _It's what you're meant to do,_ he had told him. A_ talent like yours shouldn't be wasted. _And for a moment Nick had thought: _why not? _He could at least give it another try. But he knew, deep down, that it was only the prospect of burying himself in work that was attracting him.

"So, when are you leaving?" Phil asked.

"Next week."

The idea with the cabin hadn't sounded too bad either. He knew at some point he had to stop running but for now, getting away again was too tempting. Everything but standing still. Everything but having too much time to think.

They talked a little longer about this and that, and then hung up when he had promised to call again soon. He placed the receiver back on the station and went to get himself a drink. He suddenly felt he needed it.

_She's out of my life now. _

Whom was he kidding – she was everything but that. If you focused so much energy and thinking on someone, that person, in some way, became a part of you. It was quite normal, a common phenomenon. And as much as he tried to get rid off her now, she was still there. He couldn't get her out of his head. And he didn't have anyone to blame but himself.

He took the bottle out of the fridge and poured himself a glass. It was too early but he didn't care. It wasn't like he had anywhere to be or anything to do. Taking a careful sip, he closed his eyes and tasted the alcohol on his tongue, running down his throat, intoxicating his blood circulation. He hadn't eaten since early morning - it wouldn't take long for his mind to find ease and comfort.

He wondered what she was doing. He had wondered since that night when a part of him had wanted to go back. Just because he had been curious, of course. He had tried so hard to tackle her self-confidence, to confuse her and get her angry, to make her feel instead of rationalize – and given the fact that he was still alive it seemed to have worked. But he wondered how long it had lasted.

_She probably recovered very quickly._ And he was a fool if he thought he could have changed her with some psych talk.

Was that what he had been trying to do? Change her? _No, I was trying to survive. _He had tried to manipulate her and succeeded, to a large degree probably because she had been wounded and weak. And somewhere in the back of his head his ego was already complaining again because it seemed he couldn't get to her unless she was in that state.

_Get over it! _he yelled inside his head.He had done it, he had broken her. No matter what had happened afterwards, that night he had broken her. His ego should be satisfied. And if not for that, then because he was still alive. She hadn't killed him then and she still hadn't come after him now. It was over! He had to move on.

He took another small sip of his drink, trying to calm himself. Maybe he should go out tonight. Getting drunk at home wouldn't do him any good and was pretty stupid when he could go to a bar instead, try to find some distraction, maybe hook up with someone for the night. Hadn't that been one of the reasons to keep the apartment in the city? He had moved up here about a year ago for a job and decided to stay. This place was as good as any. And if the whole idea about staying at Burton's cabin really was to keep him away from all distractions, he should probably take the opportunity now and distract himself as long as he still could. And what could be better to take his mind off of everything than… _A beautiful woman_, Phil's voice rang out in his head, instantly letting his thoughts return to Nina Myers. And he froze for a second, then gulped the rest of his drink down and slammed the empty glass on the counter, already looking for his keys and jacket. _I was thinking 'getting laid'. _


	14. Part 11

_Two months later…

* * *

_

**d2**: **+ 2 years, 1 month**

**d3**:** − 11 months**

**

* * *

**

Part XI: Introduction to

* * *

Nick took the bag from the grocery store out of the trunk and slammed it shut, locking the car before he walked to the house. Not like it was necessary up here, but some habits were hard to shake.

He liked the sound of his footsteps on the gravel and took a moment to look out over the lake, marveling at the view. He had to admit it still fascinated him although he had been up here for quite a while now. He had expected to get pretty tired of it. Instead he realized he would actually miss it. Not so much the lake itself or the house but the sound and scent of nature almost unaffected by human colonization, the silence and seclusion, the peacefulness beyond civilization. _Yeah, I also miss my TV set. _He shook his head and moved on. He was a bit young for a hermit's life.

He stepped onto the porch and fumbled for his keys when he noticed the door had been left ajar. Knowing for sure he had locked it earlier, he hesitated. He could have sworn break-ins or burglaries didn't exist up here - but every paradise had a snag to it, he reckoned.

He strained his ears but there was no sound coming from inside. Maybe it had just been someone looking for food or a place to sleep. Or maybe some bored adolescents looking for something to do. There couldn't be a whole lot of options around here.

He reached into the paper bag he was carrying on his arm and grabbed one of the bottles. Red wine, Italian. Not the most appropriate weapon to ward off an intruder but it would have to do. He took a careful step but then realized if there really was anyone still inside, he couldn't have missed the car arriving.

He took a deep breath and pushed the door fully open to peek inside. He could at least not detect an immediate sign of an intruder. What he could see from here seemed exactly like he had left it.

He took another step and entered the cabin, casting his eyes round the room now that he could overlook all of it. The sight of her sitting at his desk, seemingly absorbed by something on his laptop, made his heart skip a beat and his blood freeze in his veins. _So much for she's out of my life. _

"Structuring the crime scene," she read out loud, quoting from his script. "What's important and what's not." He could see the familiar smile on her face. "Sounds like a real page-turner."

His mind started racing. Besides the fact that he wondered how she had found him, he could only think of one reason for her presence. _And it's not to review my writing attempts. _

"In general, at a crime scene, everything is important, starting with the location itself," she continued unmoved, still not looking up from the screen. "A location that was deliberately picked by the perpetrator contributes to his profile by a variety of factors. A site that stands in relation to the victim doesn't necessarily any less. Inducing from the site to the victim's personality can help deducing the perpetrator."

He couldn't seriously be surprised. She had told him and he had said it himself – she couldn't just let him walk around. There was too much at stake for her. And he hadn't expected the events of that night to have a sustainable or lasting effect either. The only reason she hadn't showed up earlier was probably that she had been busy recovering from her injury and making sure there was no risk in returning. He was an idiot

"So let's see," she stated, finally meeting his gaze. "What can we induce from this location." She gave him a short smile and then turned to have a look around. Just for the sake of her presentation, of course, she had undoubtedly inspected the place thoroughly before he had returned.

"No personal items of emotional value, scanty furnishing, a minimum of personal belongings in general. A remote place, isolation, seclusion, solitude…" She met his eyes again. "A troubled mind, I'd say."

He swallowed, finally able to move again.

Still sitting in his chair, she looked him up and down.

"Were you going to offer me a drink?" she sneered then, motioning at the bottle he was still clutching with his right hand.

"Actually I wanted to smash your head in," he retorted dryly. "I'm sorry, but I don't have any guns lying around." If she was going to kill him anyway, it hardly mattered what he was saying.

Still smiling, she got up and he halfway expected her to pull her gun and point it at him, but she didn't, just took a few steps to stand by the window and have a look outside. He wondered if he could take her. If he was quick and tackled her… After all, she was smaller than him, and although he wasn't exactly well-trained and his last tackle had been ages ago he was probably still stronger. He was weighing more to say the least.

"So, what's the title of your book?"

But he would have a better chance if she was a little closer. Just a little bit.

"A general introduction to criminal psychology," he played along. "And it's not my book. I'm just contributing a few parts."

"That explains it then," she stated, still peering outside. "I couldn't find the part about the criminal mind."

_Just a little closer. _But how, without making her suspicious. The surprise effect would be his strongest weapon since she was probably not expecting him to attack her other than with words.

"I mean, you must have a whole lot to say about that. With your first hand insights."

"I would call them second hand insights."

"I wasn't talking about Division," she explained, turning her head to look at him again.

She was guessing. Of course she was guessing. And waiting for a reaction now, studying his features to pick up a tail. He didn't have to fake the smile he revealed.

"Didn't you leave the field of induction now? Isn't this rather…what did you call it…projective self-reflection?"

She smiled as well but remained silent, lowering her gaze and turning back to the window.

He wiped the smile off his face and stared at her, suddenly becoming aware again of the grocery bag he was still carrying and the bottle in his hand.

"You want a drink?" he asked, and saw a slight frown play over her face.

"Sure," she sneered then, and he slowly moved towards the sideboard that was separating the kitchen area from the rest of the room. He didn't want to provoke her or get her suspicious and he knew she was watching him out of the corner of her eyes, following him as he increased the distance between them.

He put the bag down and reached for one of the cupboards, finding two clean glasses. All he needed now was an opener and she would either have to come and get her wine or he would have to bring it to her.

"Red is okay?"

"Sure," she repeated.

He opened a drawer.

"You have a nice place," she stated, and he opened his mouth to object when he realized she wasn't talking about the cabin.

She had been in his apartment.

_Of course she has_, he thought angrily_. How else would she know I'm here. _The idea made him feel uncomfortable and he tried to remember how exactly he had left everything, what she could have found.

"Doesn't seem like anyone's really living there though."

"I'm traveling a lot," he muttered, opening another drawer as he couldn't find the opener.

"No phone numbers, no handwritten notes, no snapshots of friends or a girlfriend. The only photograph is one of your parents, and they are dead if I remember correctly."

He found the opener and straightened up.

"What's your point?"

"I think I was right," she said, turning around to face him. "There is something in your past, something happened. I just don't know what."

"Why would you care?" he sneered, screwing the opener into the cork. _We both know why you're here, so save us the charade and let's just get it over with_, he thought but kept his mouth shut. Pushing her wasn't going to help him.

"Because it would help me understand."

Pulling the cork out, he rolled his eyes and smirked. "What – you need that for your inner peace?" He shook his head, pouring some of the wine into the glasses. He had no interest in giving her anything. If she wanted to kill him, she could try but he wouldn't participate in any soul-stripping rituals.

He put the bottle down and picked up the glasses, slowly starting to move towards her.

"Inner peace." She tilted her head. "You think there's any such thing for me?"

There was the usual mocking expression on her face and her voice was heavy with sarcasm, but something in the way she shrugged her shoulders then and turned back to the window took him aback.

He stopped.

Something was different about her. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was not the way he would have expected it to be. He watched her more closely.

Standing by the window in a grey sweater and a jeans jacket, neither her physical appearance nor her posture indicated what she was capable of. And although she wasn't tired or in pain this time, something about her seemed less composed. Less alert, less self-assure. Almost careless. _No, not careless. Just…hesitant. Insecure?_

Was it possible? Could she be that uncomfortable with the situation, with what she was about to do? Had he been more right than he had thought – did she have something like a conscience that was plaguing her now?

He shook his head inwardly, starting to walk towards her again. _So what? _Even if that was the case, it wouldn't keep her from doing what she thought she had to do. And it couldn't keep him from doing what he had to do either. If she really had another emotional haze, another brief moment of weakness, he had to take advantage of it as long as he still could.

Taking another step, he wondered where she had her gun. Probably on her back, under her jacket. He just had to be quicker than her.

¤¤¤

She knew he was up to something and considered putting him in place. But taking her anger out on him would be weak and pointless. It wasn't him she was angry at. He wasn't the problem.

"I didn't come here to kill you," she stated, still not looking at him but instantly feeling him hesitate. "I would be lying if I said that I don't think it would be the safest option but – I didn't come for that."

Again he had stopped, standing rooted to the spot with the silly wine glasses in his hand.

"Why not?" he asked, quickly recovering from the initial shock.

She turned her head and gave him a meaningful look. _Don't push it. _They both knew why, and she surely wouldn't spell it out for him.

But either he misinterpreted her silent warning or he decided to ignore it. Or he really wasn't sure why.

"Because you forgot your gun at home? Because you suddenly developed a sensitive stomach? Or because I saved your ass?"

"If it's so important for you feel free to pick one," she replied sneeringly, but he wasn't done yet.

"Or," he implied with a low voice, "is it maybe because I was right?"

_Of course. _His ego needed another round of confirmation. She shook her head. She couldn't believe he could be so good at what he was doing and yet so ego-driven.

"I said I didn't come here to kill you, I didn't say I came to let you play me again."

"Fine," he exclaimed, passing over her admission that he had worked her pretty well last time. "Then why did you come?"

"I told you. I need to understand."

He frowned. "Understand? Understand what? Why I didn't turn you in? Why I helped you?"

_Yes_, she thought but didn't say anything. _Why did you? _She needed to know.

"Oh, I see," he nodded and broke into a sarcastic smile. "You don't wanna understand anything. Not really. You're just looking for some kind of assurance that I'll continue to keep my mouth shut. So you figure if you know all about me, maybe you can dig up something to gain some leverage."

She had to admit the thought had crossed her mind.

"I was more thinking if I knew why you did what you did, I could maybe believe you won't do anything stupid in the future." _And I won't have to kill you_, she complemented in her head.

"Whatever," he shrugged, clearly irritated and annoyed. "The fact remains: this is not about me. It's about you. You have to make up your mind. Either you trust me or you don't."

"Trust you?" she asked with an amused smile but quickly turned serious again at his response.

"Yes, trust me," he repeated angrily, his voice louder now, almost shouting. "For Christ's sake – I had all the chances in the world to turn you in but I didn't. Instead I risked my own ass by helping you, by saving you from getting shot, saving you from bleeding to death. What more do I have to do?"

She tried to hold his gaze but for the first time felt she couldn't and cast her eyes down to avoid him. It sounded so simple when he said it.

"What more do you want?"

She didn't know. What did she want? Cause he was right - ultimately, it was up to her. It didn't matter what he would or wouldn't tell her about his past. Maybe trust wasn't the best choice of words but she would have to decide whether she thought she could rely on him or not, whether he would keep quiet or not. But she couldn't even think about that now. All she heard was the despair in his voice, all she saw the disbelief in his face as he seemed to try to determine whether it really meant nothing to her that he had risked so much. Maybe not his life, but his own freedom for sure.

_Of course he risked his life_, she objected surrendering. He had risked his life every time he had been in the same room with her.

She felt him taking a last step, minimizing the distance between them, urging her to look up again.

And she did, although she knew all her doubts had to be obvious in her face, that she was making herself vulnerable by letting him see what state she was in. But she had nowhere else to turn to, didn't know what else to do. She felt cornered, and somewhere in the back of her mind a silly, girlish voice started telling her to run, to simply get out of there. She couldn't remember having felt that way, not since her early childhood when shame had made her want to run.

"What do you want?" he asked again, calmer now yet still irritated, almost whispering while his gaze flickered back and forth between her eyes.

What she wanted? She didn't know anymore. She had thought she knew but now…

She saw him raising his brows, giving her a questioning look that almost seemed well-meaning.As if he was really waiting for her to tell him, hoping for an answer that could put an end to all this. _What do you want?_

Maybe it was just that expression in his eyes, the way he almost seemed pained, asking her to find a way out of this, for both of them, that made her realize the one thing she wanted more than anything right there and then.

Fo_rget._ That was what she wanted. She wanted to forget. And leaning forward she refused to think or analyze any further.

The kiss was demanding and shocked her about as much as him but lasted nonetheless. She could feel him freeze at first, then trembling under her touch, but when her hands started moving, snaking around his body and traveling lower, he still didn't push her away. There was no sign of resistance and then she felt his hands pulling at her jacket, clutching her hair, hesitantly at first but soon more determined as well. And she let go, leaving it to her body to tell him what she wanted. What she needed.

J_ust forget. _Forget all of it. _Just for a little while. _


	15. Part 12 I

_A little later…

* * *

_

**d2**: **+ 2 years, 1 month**

**d3**:** − 11 months**

**

* * *

**

Part XII: Fix it

* * *

He felt uncomfortable and desperately wanted to change his position, but he didn't dare to move. It would only stress the awkward silence that had fallen over the room as soon as they had left each other alone. He couldn't tell how long they had been lying like that, but the minutes seemed to stretch into eternity. At one point he had thought she could have fallen asleep, but she hadn't, of course. It would be completely out of character.

_And sleeping with me wasn't? _

He still couldn't believe what just had happened. It seemed too unreal, too absurd. He had to be dreaming. He wished he was dreaming. But he wasn't. He could still feel the beads of sweat drying on his skin, the scent of sex in the air, the taste of…

He swallowed.

_Why? _All his knowledge about the human mind, all the theories he had learnt and studied, used and put into practice couldn't help him generate a halfway satisfying answer now. He knew they had just reacted to the situation, that sex was a well-tried means to vent any kind of emotion - frustration, aggression, fear, sorrow, grief. And there had been plenty of stress and tension between them. But none of that could explain what seemed inexplicable. _Not with her! Not with your… _Not with whatever they were to each other.

He couldn't lay still any longer and moved his arm out from under his head, accidentally brushing against her shoulder and quickly jerking back. She didn't move.

He was surprised she was even there. He would have expected her to just get up and walk away without another word. But the fact that she was still lying there, with her back turned to him, silent but certainly awake, could only mean that she was just as distraught as he was. He wondered what was going on in her mind.

_Wondering what's going on in her mind is what got me here in the first place_, he thought grimly. He could complain all he wanted but she was right about one thing: until today she had never asked him to come to her, it had been his own choice. And neither could he claim that he hadn't been aware of the consequences. He of all people had known exactly what he had let himself in for. Just not that it would get him here. This part had been unforeseeable.

He shifted his head a little, staring at her back. He remembered how it had staggered him when he had pulled her shirt over her head. The scars shouldn't have surprised him, he had known they were there, had even witnessed her receiving one of them. But he hadn't been prepared to see them like this. To see her like this. And he had hesitated, and then reached out to slowly run his fingertips over one of them, holding his breath at the strange feeling it stirred up in him. But she had noticed the expression on his face, and stopped his hand before it could reach its destination. _Before it could remind me who she is? Who I am?_ She had claimed his mouth for another hungry kiss, his hands to touch her somewhere else, and he had understood it wasn't him she needed. Still, her desire, her need for release had shocked him. Because it meant that he was right.

It had first dawned on him when she had told him she hadn't come to kill him, and he had hustled her into another admission. I_f I knew why you did what you did, I could maybe believe you won't do anything stupid in the future. _It meant she wanted to believe it. She had wanted him to give her something she could use to justify not killing him. That was what she had come for, that was what she had hoped to find. An excuse, an argument, something to convince herself. And when he had offered her the most obvious reason she had lost the struggle with her newly found conscience. The struggle he had forced onto her.

He let his eyes travel over the back of her head, the strands of hair curling in her neck, and paused at her shoulders, noticing how they rose and fell just an idea every time she drew a breath. In a way she had let her guard down more than she ever could have done with words. Sleeping with him had been her last resort. To shut him up, to shut herself up, to make it all go away, at least for a little while. He understood that now. He knew why she had done it. What he didn't get was why he had done it.

The sex had been as impersonal as sex could be. It had been quick and boisterous, fierce not passionate, rough not tender. And most of the time, he hadn't been able to tell if their bodies had been busy attracting or rejecting each other. None of them had made a sound.

He moved his head back to its earlier position and stared up at the ceiling, remembering something Davis had told him once, after a long and stressful day at work. _Go home, take a shower, and then find someone to fuck your brains out. I'd do the same if I was your age. _He had laughed back then, but he didn't feel like laughing now. And he wondered what Davis would say if he knew he had taken his advice, because it was exactly what he had just done, what they had been doing.

_He would question my sanity and either arrest me or institutionalize me._

He shook his head inwardly. What was wrong with him? When had he started losing his mind? And once again he tilted his head a little to watch her lying next to him. Nina Myers, former CTU agent, traitor, murderer, suspected terrorist. He could maybe justify playing games with her, trying to manipulate her, maybe explain why he had been so eager to see what was going on in her head. After all, he had spent a great deal of time trying to understand the likes of her, and that was why he had come to her, that was why he had helped her. To get a chance to figure her out. And somewhere along the way certainly to let his ego get revenge for the disappointment of their very first encounter. So far he could explain it all and more or less justify it to himself. But how could he possibly justify what had happened today? How the hell could he justify that she was lying next to him now, that he could still feel the taste of her lips on his, the touch of her skin against his, the scent of sex in the air.

¤¤¤

One hand under her cheek, she was lying still, staring along the line of her arm and at her other hand that was dangling over the edge of the bed. It had stopped trembling.

She had pulled him closer towards the end, closed her eyes when she had felt his face buried against her neck. She hadn't wanted to look at him and neither had she wanted him to look at her. So she had held on to him, clinging to his shoulder and his hip when their bodies had twitched under the contractions, effectively exhausting their last ounce of strength. He had collapsed on top of her, and she had kept her eyes closed a little longer, until she had felt him straightening up. And meeting the distraught, insecure look on his face, she had pushed him off of her and rolled onto her side, and only after a little while had she noticed the slight tremble in her hand. But it was gone now.

She swallowed, and lowered her gaze, staring into some indefinite space. She had to get up. She had to fix this. She had to do something. But she couldn't get herself to move. She was paralyzed. No, not paralyzed. It was just as if a part of her didn't care anymore. Or not enough anyway. All her mechanisms of self-protection had failed her.

She had come to see him to put an end to all this, to be able to move on, to get him out of her head. Him and all of his questions, the doubts he had planted in her. At least that was what she had told herself. She would kill him if she had to but maybe there was another way. _You were hoping there was another way. _Instead she had let him do it all over again. How naïve had she been - had she really thought he wouldn't jump at the opportunity? Had she seriously thought she would be strong enough this time? She had tested herself, she realized now. And she had failed.

_Now what? _

She felt him moving again behind her. Whatever he had been thinking before today, he could rest assured now that he had been right all along. And a part of her hated him for that, hated him because she wouldn't be in this place if it wasn't for him. She had been fine before he had started manipulating her.

_Manipulating? Really? _He wouldn't have been successful if there hadn't been some truth to it, would he? And how 'fine' had she really been? Hadn't she had her doubts already, hadn't she hesitated to get back in? Hardly because she had suddenly been afraid it could get dangerous. Wasn't it closer to the truth that she would have enjoyed being away from all the killing and betraying, playing and deceiving if there had been anything else to make her life worth living, anything else that made her feel as alive? And why had she never gone after Jack when even Nick had concluded that it would be logical to do so from her perspective? No, it wasn't all his fault. He had maybe aggravated it, but she had started coming off the track way earlier.

If for anything, she hated him for seeing her so weak but even that was only halfway true. She didn't hate him - she hated herself. For letting him see her so weak, for losing control like she had, for proving him right the way she had. And the real reason why she couldn't face him or even move, why even the thought of her gun had flashed her mind again for a brief moment, and why her hand had started trembling was because she was ashamed. For the second time today, for the second time in ages. Although, thinking of it now, she wasn't sure anymore about that either.

_She gave them to him. _Back then in Visalia, she had told herself she had simply faked being ashamed or embarrassed when Jack had told the agents why Faheen knew all their protocols. _Our protocols_. But now she wasn't sure anymore. _He knows all our protocols. – She gave them to him. _Dammit, she wasn't sure of anything anymore!

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, fighting the urge to just stay where she was, to just go on pretending not being there by not moving at all. _Right. _As if that was going to work.

She could sense his gaze in her back and suddenly felt naked and exposed. And quickly getting up, she pulled her underwear up from around her ankles and put her top over her head before making her way to the bathroom where she closed the door behind her and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. She was freezing. She didn't have anything to do in here.

But she could hear him walking around outside and sat down on the toilet seat and waited. She had to compose herself before… _Before what?_

¤¤¤

Nick squatted down and swept the broken pieces onto the tray before he started wiping the wine up off the floor. It had been a cheap bottle anyway. He was lucky the floor was parquet though. Burton wouldn't have appreciated wine stains on his rug. _I can replace the glasses_, he thought, _but I'll have to tell him. Let's hope he believes I'm really clumsy, breaking two glasses all by myself. _He wasn't keen on explaining that he had had a visitor. Not that Burton could find out who or would even ask, but the mere thought of mentioning it made Nick feel uncomfortable. _As if that was my biggest problem. _

He threw the dishcloth onto the tray and carried it over to the kitchen where he emptied its entire load into the garbage can. He could buy a new dishcloth as well.

He turned around, and leaning against the counter his gaze almost automatically fell across the room and at the bathroom door. He kept staring at it for a while but then forced himself to look away and around the room to see if there was something else to do. There wasn't, and he turned around again, got a new glass and poured himself some water from the tap. It was more to keep himself busy but once the cold liquid ran down his throat he noticed just how thirsty he had been. He refilled and emptied the glass two more times before he put it down into the sink.

Walking back to the rear of the room where the bed was, he collected his pants and the shirt from the floor and threw them onto a chair. He was freezing a bit in just his boxers but didn't care enough to get fully dressed. His eyes fell onto the pile with her clothes, and again he couldn't but stare at them, unable to grasp all the thoughts running through his head. Somehow seeing them lying there made him more aware of what had happened than the sight of her naked figure some moments ago. _And of what didn't happen. _

He squatted down again, hesitated a moment but then reached out, carefully feeling the fabrics until he found what he was looking for.

It was a different gun than last time. He could tell even before he pulled it out of its holster and carefully weighed it in his hand. It was a similar type but definitely not the same weapon he had taken from her last time. _And returned_. He wondered what he should conclude from the fact that she had left it like that, not exactly well-hidden, in the same room with him. Was she simply careless or really that far from any thought of using it? He had a hard time believing that she had forgotten about it, but then again, he had to admit that he had, earlier, when they had stripped in a hurry. As if it suddenly hadn't mattered anymore that there was a gun in the room, or even, as if there suddenly hadn't been a gun anymore. And feeling the weight in his hand now, he wondered if he had been the one to be careless.

He let the empty holster drop to the floor and straightened up again, casting his eyes round the room. _No more games. _He could only hope he wasn't making a mistake but so far, he realized, he hadn't made any or at least no big one. He was still alive and she seemed far from the person she had been when he had first met her. _Maybe that should worry me. _Maybe he should be less proud and more concerned about the fact that he had been pretty good at playing her. _It means I can get into her mind. _And there was always the risk of getting lost in there.

He heard the water running in the bathroom and started moving. _No more games._

¤¤¤

She drank another handful of the cold tap water, suddenly noticing how thirsty she really was. Not a big surprise actually but her mind had been focused on other things. She turned the faucet off and straightened up, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She wondered when she had started to get irritated by what she saw.

She wiped her mouth dry and turned around to leave the bathroom and face what was waiting outside. She realized she had been in here much too long but after everything that had happened it could hardly make a difference now. _Hiding in here is not what gave you away._

She found Nick sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall in his back, his legs pulled up, forearms resting on his knees. He was smoking. And she was just about to think how she had never understood this concept of slowly trying to kill oneself when her eyes fell on the gun lying on the sheets at the foot of the bed. Her gun, of course.

Contemplating the implications, she kept looking at it for one, two seconds more before slowly letting her gaze return to Nick who, in his turn, kept staring at the tip of his cigarette.

"The guy who pulled the bullet out of your leg - he's my best friend, always been, for as long as I can remember."

She couldn't stop her brain from saving the information, classifying it as maybe important since it could help her finding him if she had to. But most of all she had to wonder, of course. Why did Nick bring this up now?

She glanced at the gun again. _Another game? _She tried to give him a warning glare but he took no notice of it, his attention still riveted on the smoke rising from his cigarette to the ceiling.

"His family wasn't as…_wealthy_ as mine but I don't think we were ever particularly aware of it. Until his dad lost his job and started drinking. Or maybe he started drinking first and then lost his job. It doesn't matter."

He took a deep drag before he continued, signaling he was going to take his time to tell the story, and she decided to yield the floor to him and see where it would take them. Anything was better than more of the same awkward silence or even worse – talking about what just had happened. The longer they would dance around it, the more she would regain some of the control.

"One day, we were about 12, 13, Phil and I had been out all day. Playing, roaming around, God knows what we were doing. It was summer."

She noticed the tone in his voice, the mix of casualness and nostalgia, as if he was about to tell some rather irrelevant tale of his youthful exploits.

"When he got home late in the evening, he found his mother in the hallway. Dead, with a nasty gash in her head, matching the shape of an old sports trophy lying next to her. Apparently, there had been some sort of fight when his dad had returned from the pub, dead drunk as usually. Phil found him upstairs in the bedroom, sound asleep."

He paused for another drag, then reached out for the ashtray on the nightstand, placing it between his legs. All the while avoiding to look at her.

"He caught up with me before I was home and made me go back with him," he continued, fumbling with his cigarette to tap the ash off the tip, making longer breaks throughout and between the sentences now. "He said he would have done it alone but…he wasn't strong enough. So I helped him. We dragged her body up the stairs, made it look like she had fallen down."

She was surprised how calm he seemed, how detached the expression on his face was.

"We cleaned up the blood that was too far from the foot of the stairs, then we went to get rid off the stupid trophy. We dumped it into the creek. Afterwards, I went home and he waited. Two hours later he called the cops."

_Not detached. Just…at a loss. _As if he was at a complete loss himself as to what to think of all this. _What to feel at it. _

"His dad was so wasted, it took them half an hour to wake him up. And when they told him, told him what Phil had told them - that his son had woken up at the sound of his wife falling down the stairs and that she was dead - he cried like a baby."

Another, somewhat more hasty drag on his cigarette.

"Of course, a proper forensic examination would have revealed how she had really died. But it was a small community, more of a neighborhood, no one wanted to ask questions that could have disclosed an ugly truth. Witnesses confirmed that his dad had come home before Phil, and Phil himself told them how he had still spoken to his mum before going to bed. While his dad had already been passed out and asleep. Why should he be lying?" He shook his head. "They all bought it."

She watched him stubbing out the cigarette and tilted her head back, contemplating the implications of what he had just revealed. And, of course, still wondering why he had chosen to tell her. _Why now? Why at all?_ He had refused to give any clarifications on the matter earlier.

Finally, he looked up.

"It's probably not the dark secret you expected," he stated cynically, fishing for a reaction from her. But she stayed silent, patiently scrutinizing his features. He seemed uncomfortable.

"The most obvious question would be why we did it."

She took her time before she spoke, making sure she didn't miss anything in his face. Did he really just need to talk about it? Or was he up to something again? But she couldn't see anything indicating the latter. _And it wouldn't be the first time he's spilling his beans._

She hinted a shrug.

"I'm guessing, he figured since his mother was dead anyway it wouldn't do him much good to lose his father as well."

For a brief moment he glared at her, as if he was frustrated that she so easily identified and so readily accepted this explanation. That she didn't shake her head or was horrified at the whole story? But he couldn't seriously have expected her to, and obviously realizing that as well he quickly cast his eyes down.

"And you were his best friend." She rolled her eyes. "Of course you helped him." _You are that kind of guy. _Someone to rely on, to trust, who would risk everything for the right person. She couldn't hide her contempt. _Until you wake up in the real world and find out life doesn't work like that. _Life didn't reward idealistic delusions. No one could be trusted. Not if you wanted to get somewhere, not if you wanted to make it through. _It's hard enough to trust yourself at times_.

"He said he didn't want them to send him off to some foster family, to take him away from everything he knew," Nick continued, staring down at his hands. "From me. His best friend."

Of course, Nick had a different opinion on that matter. He had been willing to go a long way for his friend and that was probably why his friend, in his turn, had done the same for him. Treating a gunshot wound and not informing local authorities about it was a serious offense and he had hardly risked his medical license for her, a stranger he didn't even know. _No, he did it for Nick. _But Nick had asked the favor of him.

She pushed the thought aside, not giving her mind a chance to dwell on it. Instead she focused on Nick again.

_So, that's the wrong you're trying to make right_. He had covered up a murder and felt he had blood on his hands. She sneered to herself. No wonder he had chosen just her to confess to - she knew better than anyone what it meant to have bloody hands.

"He told me: just a few more years," Nick remembered. "Just a few more years and I'm free to go wherever I wanna go and do whatever I wanna do." He sighed. "I don't know how he did it. How he could live in the same house with his dad, stay in the same room with him. I could hardly breathe every time I was there. The first year I couldn't even set a foot in the house. And every time I see that hallway, I still feel I have to throw up."

He fell silent again.

"What happened to his father?" she asked, mostly to keep him talking.

He gave a snort of contempt.

"Took him five years to drink himself to death. Phil says he spent his days sitting in his armchair, alternating between drinking and crying. Rambling on about how he had been a bad husband, causing his wife nothing but grief and trouble, and how he had been drunk the night she died. How it maybe would never have happened if he had been awake or how he at least could have spared his son to find her." He took a deep breath. "At first I thought it was the guilty conscience that racked him. That he knew very well what he had done." He shook his head an idea. "But, I don't know, Phil never confronted him, they never talked about what had really happened that night. Maybe his dad wanted to believe so badly what was in the police report, he actually thought it was the truth. Or maybe he really had no idea what he had done."

"What did Phil think?" she found herself asking, contributing to the strange conversation for the second time already. But despite the fact that it kept them away from another, much more sensitive subject she couldn't deny that she was curious now.

"He kept saying his father just believed what he wanted to, but I think in the end he wasn't so sure anymore either." He shrugged. "I don't know if he doubted because it got harder to watch his father die or if it got harder to watch because he doubted. He says it doesn't matter and that he doesn't care. What's done is done."

"Smart man," she remarked, earning herself another brief glare. She rolled her eyes. "Does it make a difference?"

¤¤¤

He stared back at her for a moment, then slowly lowered his gaze. Did it?

"I mean, what's really bugging you?" she asked mockingly, moving to walk over to where the rest of her clothes was still lying on the floor. "Whether or not Phil's dad knew what really happened or your own part in this whole tragic episode?"

"I bet you think it shouldn't bug me at all," he retorted, watching her picking up her pants and putting them on, annoyed with how indifferent she was. Not that he had expected her to be particularly moved, but… Hell, he didn't know what he had expected.

The typical smile appeared on her face while she finished with the last button on her jeans. There was nothing left of the insecurity or the embarrassment he had spotted earlier.

"Is that why you're telling me all this? To get my expertise?"

He opened his mouth to protest. _I told you because I wanted to ease some tension, defuse the situation. To spare you the embarrassment. That's why I told you. _Wasn't it?

He hesitated. Her expertise? Was she completely off track? Or could there be some truth to it?

She seemed to have sensed the doubts on his mind and gave him a challenging look.

"Come on. We made such progress today, I think we really connected," she sneered, her voice heavy with sarcasm. And he was taken aback at how she had gained the upper hand again. He could swear just a couple of minutes ago she would have shot him for any comment on what had happened between them and now she was mocking him with it.

"Ask what you really wanted to ask me," she added, performing yet another transformation and being almost serious again all of a sudden. And he recognized this certain expression on her face that he couldn't really grasp although he had seen it a couple of times now, recently more often than earlier. It was confusing him every time again because there were so many elements to it. The usual mockery and a mild dose of contempt, paired with sarcasm, of course, and that touch of superiority. As if she was one step ahead already and knew how the story would unfold anyway. But there was more. And much to his surprise, he suddenly realized now that it was sadness. He had wondered about it earlier, mistaken it for pity, but it was a sad resignation. As if she not only knew what was lying ahead but also that it was inevitable, whether she liked it or not. _Well, if she liked it there would be no reason for resignation in the first place. _

He had to stifle a laughter when he realized how right she was. They had indeed made progress, he really felt that he understood more than before she had showed up today. He just wasn't sure whether he was comfortable with it. _Progress regarding what? To where?_

The frown on her face told him he hadn't been too good at hiding his amusement, and he considered sharing his absurd thought but wasn't sure if it was a good idea to lead the conversation into that direction. As much as her little insinuation about their recent physical activity had been a demonstration of how she was back in control, it had also been an admission that it was a sore spot. Hence the mockery. _You don't sneer at something that doesn't bother you._ It was basic psychology, and he wondered if she had missed this part of her message or if she had conveyed it intentionally. To tell him not to go there without actually saying it. He could very well believe her capable of it, but maybe he was interpreting too much into it now. Realizing she was still waiting for an answer, he let it go.

_Ask what you really wanted to ask me. _

"Why should I care what you have to say?" he asked instead, stalling of course and not very good.

"Because it's why we're here," she explained, still that same expression on her face. "It's why you came after me in Tunisia, why you stopped by at the hotel, why you didn't hand me over to the cops, and why you asked your friend to get that bullet out of my leg, prolonging our little tête-à-tête." She paused a moment, as if to let her words sink in properly. "I guess you wanted to ask then already, but you chickened out. And it was so much more fun to play me."

Again she waited a moment before she continued, watching his reaction carefully. Giving him enough time to protest, he realized, but remained silent.

"I'm sure it was a nice bonus, but it's not what you really need from me."

"And what is that?" he asked, instantly regretting it although, at this point, it didn't really matter anymore what he said or didn't.

"Answers, some advice," she offered. "Someone who understands. Who's been there, done that, who knows what you're talking about. All of it."

Was she right? He had racked his brains so often about why she kept coming back into his life, why he kept pulling her in, he couldn't tell the difference anymore between what was true, what had become true over the years, and what he had talked himself into believing. It had seemed so convenient to explain it all with his ego. That he had just wanted to break her because he had failed the first time. But deep down he knew it didn't explain anything. Since when was his ego that oversized anyway? It had never been before. And why should he be so obsessed with just her? He had screwed up other interrogations but there was nothing he could be blamed for regarding her case. _Then why? _Why couldn't he let it go, let her go? Why if not for the reason she had just pointed out?

"Tell me I'm wrong," she sneered, not hiding the pleasure she took from playing his own game with him. "Tell me there's nothing you want to ask me, nothing you need to hear from me."

Was there? He wasn't sure anymore. There had been in Tunisia, she was right about that. She hadn't exactly pressured him to pour his heart out about why he had left Division. In fact, he remembered he had been so eager to finally get it off his chest, he doubted she could have stopped him. And why should he have told just her of all people if not for the simple reason that he had expected her to understand, hoped to get some sort of approval or confirmation from her. _And I got it. _Wasn't that part of the reason why he had been able to move on, why he had stopped second-guessing his decision to quit? She was right about Tunisia, there had been something he had needed to hear from her. But what about the rest? What about now? Was she right about that as well?

She kept giving him that superior look of hers for a moment longer before she came slowly walking towards the bed. Towards the gun.

_She's leaving. _


	16. Part 12 II

¤¤¤

_Fine. _If he couldn't get himself to ask – she wouldn't wait until he turned it all around again.

Without really thinking it through, she walked over to the bed to pick up her gun, already going over the arrangements for her trip back. Otherwise she wouldn't have been surprised when he suddenly jumped up, his hand reaching the gun an instant before hers, quickly pulling it away.

Irritated, she looked up at him, frowning. _Didn't we agree you weren't going to pretend you could ever use a gun on me? _But meeting his gaze, seeing the expression on his face, she understood he had no interest in the gun. He just knew she wouldn't leave without it.

_Wait, _his eyes seemed to say. And she sighed, tilting her head, knowing she would regret it if she didn't leave now. Things had already gone way too far.

She straightened up again, realizing how everything had changed all of a sudden, how they both would have reacted differently to the same situation not too long ago. How going for the gun would have conveyed other messages than her getting ready to leave and him asking her to stay, generated less harmless perceptions. And while she couldn't blame herself for not feeling threatened by him, she wasn't sure what to make of the fact that he obviously wasn't intimidated any longer by her either. It should bother her.

_Really? Why? _

She sighed and turned her head to cast her eyes round the room in order not to let him see the doubt on her mind. The struggle she suddenly found herself in every time she blinked. _It used to be so easy. _She was usually able to relax to some degree, once she had decided that it was safe. And that was easy to determine: she was safe when there was no one around who had any interest in harming her or, if there was, when she knew there was a good reason to leave her alone. When she had some leverage. It was simple and it had always worked for her, but now the equation suddenly didn't seem to add up. Or she couldn't do the math anymore. She had given away the only leverage she had: to kill him or at least to threaten to kill him. _Because you don't need any. Let's face it: he has done more to help you than to harm you. _Besides messing with her mind. Besides planting all these doubts in her head. Besides that, he hadn't done anything that would qualify him as a threat. There was nothing complicated to it. So why didn't she lean back?

_Because all you have is your own judgment, which, let's be honest, doesn't count a lot at the moment. _Because everything within her objected to the idea of simply relying on him and on the belief that he wouldn't one day change his mind. It wasn't so much the risk of him selling her out that bothered her but more the fact that she was willing to go with it. It simply wasn't like her. To accept a risk, no matter how small it might seem. Just like she had never been the type for doubts and second thoughts. _They're just distracting. _It didn't mean she couldn't be flexible if necessary, but once a decision was made, once something was done… And that was why a part of her feared what Nick wanted to hear from her. Because she wasn't sure anymore if she could say it.

_Of course you can say it. _

But could she still live it?

Frustrated, she turned to face him again. She had to end this, the one or the other way. She just kept getting more confused around him and she couldn't afford any more doubts. Things had to get back to normal.

He was still staring at her, his hand still around the gun.

"Do you want me to say it, then?" she offered, getting impatient at his silence. But she didn't have to.

"How do you do it?"

Finally. The words she had more or less been waiting for. So she answered as she was prepared to answer, banning all other thoughts from her mind.

"How do I do it? How do I live with myself, how do I go on?" She rolled her eyes. "It's simple. You can't go back anyway."

"No, but you can think back," he objected.

"Yes. But it doesn't get you anywhere. At least nowhere you want to be. It really is that simple: once something is done, there's no alternative to sticking with it."

She saw him lowering his gaze, staring on the bed sheet between them.

"Your friend is right," she continued. "It doesn't matter anymore. All the thinking in the world won't change a thing and you can regret what you did all you want, it won't –".

"I'm not regretting it," he cut her off, and she raised her brows.

"I'm not regretting it," he repeated, looking up at her again. "I did it to help Phil."

_Good for you, _she thought to herself. _Then what's the problem?_

"But I can't –" he started but left the sentence uncompleted.

"Can't what?" she asked impatiently.

He seemed to struggle for the words and it took a while before he got the sentence out

"I can't see what's right."

¤¤¤

He looked for a reaction in her face but there was nothing at first. He couldn't tell if she was waiting for him to elaborate or if she simply wasn't surprised at his words. Maybe she had anticipated them, figured this out as well.

"I just…I can't tell anymore. And I don't mean what's right or wrong in general. I can tell the difference between good and bad as much as anyone else." _Maybe as much as you_. Cause she knew that difference as well, she just didn't seem to care about it.

It hadn't taken him long to make up his mind about what he wanted to do. Not after that summer. He had known long before he had finished school. Psychology. Because he wanted to know what it was that made people do the things they did. What had made Phil and him do what they had done, what had made Phil's dad do what he had done. Criminal psychology. Because he wanted to know how those minds were working, how they were justifying their actions to themselves. If they were at all. What concepts of good and bad, right and wrong they had.

_And did you find some answers? _a voice nagged him. Some he had found. Others would probably never be answered to full extent. _But I found some concerning you_, he thought, his eyes still riveted on Nina's face. He – for obvious reasons – had never had this proximity to a subject, never had comparable insights. It was fascinating and scary at once.

He tried to shake the thought off. _Not now._

"I just don't know anymore what's right to me," he clarified.

"Yes, you do," she stated airily, turning away from him and walking the few steps to the chair. "You just don't like it."

He watched her shoving his clothes aside to take a seat, frowning, irritated at how offhand she was about his assertions.

She leaned back and met his eyes again, her expression unreadable. Almost blank but not quite. Bored? Indifferent? Waiting? Observant? He couldn't really tell.

"Okay," he remarked cuttingly, "since you seem to know more than I do - enlighten me."

He had expected one of her smiles to appear on her face, the usual signs of her amusement or sarcasm, but there was nothing. And it actually made him even more uncomfortable. The way she looked at him, staring right into his eyes. Until he understood. It was something she had only come to think of now. Something she hadn't had time to think through.

He waited a few seconds but was too impatient.

"Try me. I might be able to give some clarification on the matter," he offered and another couple of seconds later she finally broke her silence.

"Maybe I was wrong."

He frowned. Not even her tone was giving him any clues right now.

"Maybe there's something else you need even more."

"Even more?" he sneered, aware it was his insecurity getting the better of him. His fear. The fear that she would be right with whatever she would point out next. _Right again_. Because the more time his brain had to process the information, the more he realized it wasn't all new to him. Deep inside, he had somewhere had the same thoughts, he had just never allowed them to surface.

"You profiled me," she explained unmoved. "You couldn't have missed the most obvious question. What made me do it? What made me betray my country?" Finally, a slight note of sarcasm again, but it was gone as quickly as it had emerged. "Maybe you had an idea after you threw in the towel yourself." She tilted her head, her body language nearly communicating sympathy. Or pity? "That was Tunisia. The same education, the same job, the same frustration. Qualified me, didn't it?"

_To understand, to know what it's like_, he replied in the safeguard of his head,_ yes, it qualified you. _

"You're repeating yourself," he barked aloud.

"We both quit," she ignored his remark. "We just chose different ways."

"Yeah, that's a way of putting it!" he spat, doing his best to display contempt while his brain started working. Her last words had triggered something, and he got there the same moment she said it out loud.

"So how come I took the road I took, and you didn't?"

She let her words hang in the air for a moment, and he focused all his energy on not showing a reaction.

"You must have been wondering. All this talk about your world and my world, all your efforts to show how you can't understand how I could do the things I did, to emphasize how appalled you are?" She frowned. "Is it really that incomprehensible to you?"

He managed to give her a mocking smile, but it cost him. It cost him a lot. And if it worked, it would only be because she wasn't that sure of her own theory anyway.

¤¤¤

She knew she could be way off, probably was. It was more than a long shot. But there wasn't exactly a lot she had left to lose so she had called him on her hunch. To see where it would get her. But the expression on his face seemed genuine.

"Does that help?" he sneered. "Does it silence your regrets to try and make me just like you?"

She closed her mouth and turned her head away. _Not really._

She sighed inwardly. She couldn't believe she had come this far. Not only was she insecure and full of doubts, she was even tricking herself now, trying to make herself feel better by projecting something onto him that wasn't there. Of course she had been wrong.

"You would know what you're talking about, wouldn't you?" he mocked. "You must have wondered yourself: why didn't you just do as I did? Why didn't you just quit if it was so bad? Cause that's what you normally do – you don't like a job, you quit."

_True_. She lowered her eyes. Why did everything suddenly seem so simple, so applicable.

"So if it was just the realization that the world is a bad place and you're not making it better even if you try – then why did you become a monster," he hissed, "and I didn't. How do you explain that?"

"I'm not the one looking for explanations," she dismissed his remark but something else stuck with her.

_A monster. _Something in the way he said it, emphasized it. As if…

_As if that's what he thinks you are. That's what he means, nothing else._ She had to stop reading more into it.

_A monster. _Wasn't that what she had started to think as well? She was trying not to, most of the time successfully so, but she had always known once that door would be opened, it would be impossible to close it shut again. She knew if she allowed herself to climb all the way down to that dark little room inside of her… But she was on her way now. She was already at the door.

She realized he was talking again, differently though, his words softly penetrating the racous silence within her.

"…to you, but I did."

She raised her eyes, and found him hanging his head, avoiding to look at her.

"Wonder. Just…not often. Just a moment. Here and there?" She heard him chuckle. A weak, desperate chuckle. "I probably just spent too much time inside sick minds."

All her thoughts were forgotten as she frowned at him, wondering if she was really hearing what she heard.

"But you're right. Sometimes I have to remind myself…that there's no excuse for what you did. That it's horrible. That..."

She was taken aback. She hadn't really thought she could be right.

"But I can't help it," he continued, the struggle visible on his face, "a part of me…", his jaws clenching, "…understands."

Maybe she had taken her turn in messing with his mind now. Maybe she had talked him into this. _No, you couldn't have. _She couldn't just have talked him into believing something like this. She had certainly shoved it under his nose but it had to come from somewhere else. It had to come from him.

"I know I could never have…walked down the same road you did but…" He paused again, staying silent for a long moment while she felt unable to do as much as blinking. She stared, not able to move as he seemed to fall into pieces right in front of her.

"I know what it's like to be disillusioned. I can see why you don't believe in anything anymore. They taught me." He swallowed, and she thought she could see a slight shiver running through his body when he continued. "I could never prioritize myself the way you do. Set everything, really every other thing aside, every…respect for human life, every piece of…" He shook his head. "Just because you decided it's not worth caring about anything else, that doesn't give you the right to… I'm not like you! But I understand it better than I should."

_It? _

She had known that he had found his way into her mind. He had proved it over and over again. But she had no idea he was this close.

"I know you felt you sacrificed too much to just…walk away. Cause it leaves you with nothing, it left me with nothing. Although I didn't even give half of what you gave. And you're right: those months after I quit, I wondered. In…in my lowest moments," he smirked, "I wondered if I shouldn't have…seen to that I get something out of it. Anything. And then I saw you. In Tunisia. And yeah, I guess that was why I came to you, and why I kept coming back. To assure myself that you're not what I want to be."

She took a long, deep breath. So her hunch hadn't been such a long shot after all. All his emphasizing how appalled he was, how he couldn't understand, his naivety – all just to convince himself. To remind him of the road he hadn't taken and why. Of what was waiting at the end of it.

"But I guess I couldn't distance myself as much from you as I wanted to either. From what you did, from what I know. From what I understand. So I tried to…to break you." He nodded. "Because…" He suddenly looked up, revealing his eyes, and she didn't quite know how to interpret the expression in them. "I don't know. I guess because I thought…if I can fix you, I can fix myself."

¤¤¤

He waited for her to say something but she didn't. Just stared at him, thrown by his revelations. Hell, he had thrown himself.

He couldn't stay still any longer and looked around, reached out for the package on the nightstand then and lit another cigarette. He noticed his hand slightly trembling with the matches and looked up, seeing she had caught it as well but didn't comment. Didn't even give one of her little smiles. Didn't give any clue as to what she was thinking.

He was the first to look away again. He hadn't been prepared for this. He hadn't known any of it until the words had come over his lips. Not really. Not…

_Of course I've known it. _It hadn't just come flying to him. Maybe the words hadn't been there, the awareness. But the truth had been lying within him all along. He had just not been ready to see it, had tried to make sense of it the best he could without touching upon what he couldn't comprehend. Until now.

_Who would have thought this would be the day_, he thought. _Who would have thought it would be like this. _And feel like this.

Sitting up against the wall again, his arms resting on his knees, he took a couple of deep drags, watched the smoke drifting off, watched her watching him. He was alright. He hadn't thought he would be, but he felt alright. Or a part of him at least. The rest was still confused. It would take some time to let it all sink in but a part of him was surprisingly calm all of a sudden.

He finished the cigarette.

"So, it seems you asked the wrong question," she finally broke the silence. "It's not about what I want."

"I guess not," he sighed, and watched her getting up, collecting her remaining belongings from the floor, slipping her shoes on.

"Well, I'm glad we figured that out," she remarked sarcastically and stepped closer, reaching her hand out.

He hesitated a moment but then leaned forward and laid the gun into her open palm. She closed her fingers around it and turned away, heading for the door. He realized this time she wouldn't come back. If all of this had been good for anything then obviously to give her the reason she had been looking for, the reason she needed not to kill him. She had it now - why should she stick around any longer.

"Where are you going now?" he asked, not really sure what he was hoping to accomplish. But she stopped, slowly turning back around to face him. The familiar scornful expression on her face. It was not what he really wanted to ask her and she knew it. They both knew it.

"So, this is it," he stated, and she gave him a scrutinizing look before she took a step closer again.

"What – you thought we could just hang out a little?" she sneered. "As amusing as this was –"

"Oh, cut the sarcasm routine," he cut her off, brusquely. "We both know what's behind it."

She gave him a defying look but didn't object.

"So, what now? You're just going to go on as if nothing happened? Pretend everything's alright?"

"I always do," she replied calmly, as if it wasn't an admission.

"Yeah, but how much longer?"

She took another two steps towards him, a sign of aggression and anger she wouldn't allow to show on her face.

"What do you think this is? A therapy group? I didn't come here for counseling."

"No," he admitted. "Neither to have sex with me. But you had. Which tells a whole lot."

She stood still, tilted her head back to look down on him. And this time she failed to hide her emotions. It was obvious how much she hated him for reminding her. For using it against her.

"If I remember correctly, you weren't exactly fighting me off. So what does that tell about you?"

"That I'm desperate? Confused?" He glared at her. "That I don't know what the hell is going on or how I can make it better."

She raised her brows.

"Oh, I thought you do," she stated, her voice heavy with bittersweet sarcasm for a second. Then she shook her head slightly, frowning at him. "Fixing me? I don't need to be fixed. I'm not a car. I'm not broken."

"Oh, really?" he retorted. "Tell me you're –" he started but she stopped him.

"Don't go there," she warned him, returning his own glare with even more intensity. "No more tell-me-dares."

He clenched his teeth but swallowed the rest of the sentence.

"Alright," he remarked bitterly. "You're not broken. You don't need my help. You don't need anything. You're not having any regrets, you're not looking back seeing all those people who died by your hand or because of something you did, the ones you hurt or simply betrayed. No, you don't need to be fixed. You're just perfectly fine with how things are. In fact, your life couldn't be any better, and if there's anything at all that –".

"I can't," she cut him off, "be fixed." Her voice loud and clear but still matter-of-fact.

He shut up, but she didn't give her words any time to hang in the air. If she was aware of their magnitude, she didn't let it show.

"If you want to get your life back together, fine. Do it. But it has nothing to do with me."

"It has everything to do with you," he objected.

"No, it doesn't," she repeated, accentuating her words carefully and shooting him another glare. "And you better keep it that way."

He stared at her, almost expecting her to raise the gun that was still in her hand to emphasize her point, but it wasn't necessary, of course. He wasn't stupid.

"You don't owe anything to anyone, there's no need to make amends. So do whatever you have to do but leave me out of it."

He tried to smirk. "Still worried I could sell you out?"

Another warning look. _Don't push me. _And he didn't.

"What about you?" he asked in a less aggressive tone.

She maintained her glare a moment longer, but then obviously decided that it didn't matter anymore. That she had let her guard down so much already that it wouldn't hurt to do it one last time, although sarcasm helped taking the edge of.

"A little late to make amends," she sneered, turned around, and walked out. And letting the door fall shut behind her, she was gone while Nick just kept staring at the wooden frame.


	17. Part 13

_Three months later…

* * *

_

**d2**: **+ 2 years, 4 months**

**d3**:** − 8 months

* * *

**

**Part XIII: The cycle of a day

* * *

**

"We're on our way," Nina stated factually and slid the cell phone back into her pocket.

"Everything ready for us?"

"Yes," she nodded and peered out into the darkness, relaxing her neck muscles and allowing her head to move with every jolt the bumpy road sent through the car. Yes, everything was in place. Everything was just fine.

Next to her on the driver's seat Mac sighed.

"We'll be there in a few minutes."

She glanced at him. He didn't seem too happy either.

It shouldn't surprise her. She had noticed this trait earlier: he didn't like complications any more than she did. And there had been complications today. It could have been a clean deal, an easy job. Instead things had gotten messy.

"Still can't believe they tried to blow us," he growled, his fists clenching the steering wheel a little tighter. "Stupid idiots."

He almost seemed angry, and finding this observation rather interesting she watched him a little longer.

She didn't know much about him. Before today, he had only worked for her twice, and the only thing she had cared about so far was that he did as he was told, nothing more, nothing less. But today she had seen some potential in him. He had been the only one to react immediately, the first one to understand her secret hint that they were being set up. Maybe he could become a real asset. If she had to get used to having someone by her side, it should at least be someone she could rely on. Well, as much as she could ever rely on anyone.

She was still not particularly fond of working with any of the guys her employer sent along as her escort. She was used to working alone and most of the time preferred it. The less people involved, the less potential screw-ups, and when it all came down she was the only one she could really trust. But if there was one thing her employer couldn't be accused of, then it was being sloppy about arrangements and precautions. Wherever he sent her, whatever the job was, there was always someone with her or waiting for her, taking care of things, watching her back. Sometimes it made her feel a bit overprotected, at other times as if she was being monitored. But she had to admit that it was nice, for a change, to be the one with the back-up. Especially since the incident with Travis and Jared, and especially now that she couldn't locate Jack anymore. He seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth about two months ago and it still made her nervous, although she kept telling herself that if he was coming for her he would have showed up already.

She checked her watch.

"So, how did you know?" Mac asked, and she gave him another glance before turning away and looking out through the window again.

"He was extremely nervous for starters," she explained, welcoming the distraction from her thoughts.

"Nervous? I thought he seemed a little too calm."

"The second guy," she clarified. "He was sweating and staring at his watch a little too often. Plus he couldn't control his features and body language." She recalled how he had made sure to keep a distance between them, almost shying away every time she moved closer, how his arms and hands had seemed tensed, as if he wanted to be ready to either run or pull a gun at any time. "It's easy to lie with words but much harder to lie with your body."

"Okay, but those are just hints. You couldn't have been sure just by –".

"No," she agreed. "I was sure when he mentioned the contact he claimed to have used."

"Why?"

She sighed inwardly.

"Because I happen to know that this contact is not active anymore."

She felt his gaze on her and turned around, meeting his eyes long enough to confirm what he assumed. _The guy's dead_.

She nodded.

He was smart enough not to ask any further questions and they drove in silence for a while.

She used the time to think about what was lying ahead of her. The flight back wouldn't take long, neither finishing this whole thing off. She could continue her trip and be home by tomorrow.

_Home. _

She pushed the thought aside.

Then she'd have a few days off before packing her bag again and meet with Amador. Everything had worked out fine last time and now there was another job for them. All in all, things were going well. Not as good as she had hoped for but she was getting there. She just had to be patient.

_Yeah? Patient for what? _It wasn't like she had any real destination, anywhere to go. She didn't even feel the familiar kick anymore, the comforting feeling of being alive. She was playing in the higher league again already, and she would undoubtedly move up even higher, but at some point, that would be it. It wasn't like a competition anyone could ever really win, there was no title to earn, no ranking to lead. If you were lucky you were among the best as in among the smartest, those who stayed in business for the longest time and made a good living from it. But nothing was for granted, never ever. Who was on top one day could be taken down within hours. Everything could change within the cycle of a day. Or even faster. For the guys who had tried to set them up today, things had taken a turn for the worse within a couple of minutes. They had hardly had enough time to realize their mistake, left alone to regret it.

_And Jack could still show up any given day to settle the score with you._

"We're almost there," Mac announced next to her, but she couldn't discern anything in the darkness that was surrounding her.


	18. Part 14

_One day later…

* * *

_

**d2**: **+ 2 years, 4 months**

**d3**:** − 8 months**

**

* * *

**

Part XIV: Finished

* * *

Nick fumbled around with his key and after several attempts finally managed to get it inside the slot, that seemed smaller all of a sudden. Something was wrong here. He usually didn't have such problems getting into his apartment. Then again, the fact that he was drunk might have something to do with it.

He walked inside and kicked the door shut behind him, tossing the keys onto a sideboard. Strangely enough they landed some feet away from it but who cared. They wouldn't grow legs and walk out on him over night. He chuckled at the idea though, picturing it in his fuzzy head. _Yeah, yeah, keys with legs…_

He peeled the jacket off his shoulders and continued his way through the apartment, getting a glass of water in the kitchen. He should probably have an aspirin with that to avoid the headache in the morning. It had worked when he had been a student. Then again, maybe the headache would remind him never to drink again.

_Sure_, he thought, and walked over to the couch, falling more than sitting down on it, managing though not to spill the water. He emptied the glass and lowered it again, letting it slide out of his hand and roll over the upholstery. He knew he would care too much about the leather if he was sober. He tilted his head back, sinking deeper into the cushions, and closed his eyes. _Hell, I'm a rebel. _

When he opened his eyes again, his chin had sunk down onto his chest and his throat was dry again. His mouth tasted like something had died in there.

M_ust have dozed off_, his mind slowly concluded before he raised his head and caught sight of something that couldn't be there.

_Or maybe I'm still asleep. _

He blinked and brought a hand to the bridge of his nose, pinching it before he looked up again. But it was still there. A dark silhouette right across the room by the window. He blinked once more, and recognized the outline of someone standing there, a black figure looking out and down onto the street, her back turned on him.

He shook his head but she wouldn't go away. Instead he saw her turning her head slightly, hinting a glance over her shoulder before looking back out again.

"So, what have you been celebrating?" her voice reached him.

He swallowed, suddenly wide awake. His reactivity severely slowed down, but definitely awake.

He tried to sit up, and glanced towards the hallway and the door behind him.

"How –" he started but even in his drunk condition realized the ridiculousness of his question. Picking a lock was probably to her what was lacing their shoes to other people.

He ran a hand over his face. Why had he been drinking? He couldn't quite recall the reason. Oh, right. _The book. _

"The book," he mumbled. "Finished all my chapters and handed them in like a good boy."

"Congratulations."

He frowned. The usual sarcasm in her voice but it was somewhat extenuated.

"What…are you doing here?" he asked, and watched her shoulders slightly rise when she seemed to take a deep breath. But there was no verbal reaction.

He swallowed again, trying to get the awkward taste out of his mouth, but it didn't help. _Water. _He needed water.

He remembered the glass lying next to him and picked it up, and he was about to rise from the couch when her voice stopped him.

"You were right about why I joined CTU."

He hesitated, and when she continued to speak just leaned back and listened. Listened while she talked about her work for the NSC, for Division, CTU, and then from some point on for someone else, no regrets in her voice, no self-pity, no pleas for sympathy. Just the same calm intonation while she kept talking, more than he'd ever heard her say at any occasion.

It was getting light outside by the time she was finished.

¤¤¤

She heard him moving. He hadn't interrupted her once, and a part of her had wondered if he had fallen asleep. Hoped he had fallen asleep, but that would have made this whole pathetic ostentation pretty useless at the same time. And well aware that she needed him to be awake she had cast a reassuring look at his reflection in the window every now and then to make sure he was still with her.

Now she was finished and heard him moving, getting up from the couch and walking over to the kitchen, where the faucet was being turned on a second later, water ran but was being turned off again just a moment later. She turned her head an idea, listening to another set of footsteps, and then recognized the unmistakable sound of a bottle being opened and its liquid content being poured into a glass. She glanced over her shoulder.

He didn't bother to set the bottle down, just lifted his glass and emptied it in one big gulp, then refilled it while turning around.

"You want some?"

She looked him up and down.

"I think you had enough for both of us."

He smiled. "Enough?" And poured the alcohol down his throat, getting a third refill as soon as he was done. "I'm not so sure about that."

She frowned and took a closer look at him.

His eyes, face, hair, clothes – it was obvious he had been drinking from a mile's distance. He looked tired and worn down and his whole appearance left no doubt that it wasn't just the lack of sleep that was pressing on his shoulders. He seemed burdened. As if listening had been harder on him than telling had been on her.

She let her eyes travel back to the window, looking down on the slowly awaking street. _Serves him right._ She tried to find some comfort or satisfaction in the thought. _You wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him._ He had started all this. He had forced her to look back instead of ahead, and now she suddenly felt like she couldn't do what had never been a problem before: leave it all behind and move on. Because of him she had to deal with it now, and ironically enough he was also the only person she could turn to for that. They were both part of the other one's problem but at the same time the only place left to go to, the only place left to look for a cure. Or at least for something they could use to go on.

She glanced at her wristwatch. She had gotten everything there was to get here. It was time to go.

She turned around, just when he finally let go of the bottle, placing it on the counter behind him together with the glass and steadying himself there for a moment. Then he came slowly walking towards her.

"I don't want to talk about it," she clarified before he could say anything. "I didn't come here to debate, I didn't come for counseling."

"I know," he stated calmly, still reducing the distance between them. "You came here because you needed to get it off your chest. Wash it off, flush it out - I get that."

She frowned.

"Good."

"You think it helped?" he continued.

She gave him a condescending look, avoiding to answer. _Did it help? _She could only hope it would.

He slowed down a little, and then stopped about three feet away from her, his glassy eyes resting on hers, looking at her with a surprising intensity. And she knew she should go. Before he could twist her mind again, because what else could he be up to. It was what he always did.

But a part of her hesitated. _He's much too drunk. _And although her body was tensing, although she felt uncomfortable she couldn't take her eyes off of him, couldn't stop trying to figure out what was going on in his head. What did he want now?

"So you got what you needed," he said, still staring into her eyes, speaking slower though as the alcohol seemed to reach his brain and do its job.

_Yes. I guess I did, _she thought, and he nodded slowly.

"How about me getting what I need?" he asked, still that expression in his eyes and on his face that she couldn't interpret, and she became alarmingly aware of the window and the wall behind her. Not that she would allow herself to go that far, but she couldn't even take a step back if she wanted to.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin up, maintaining the self-assure, superior look on her face.

"And what do you –"

The rest of the question died in her throat when he suddenly raised his hand, slowly bringing it up to her face, his fingertips lightly touching the skin on her temple. And it took all her strength not to withdraw, not to shove his hand away or move.

"The same as you," he whispered, his fingers moving down her cheek. "Maybe that's the saddest thing - but I think I'm just drunk enough not to worry about it."

She opened her mouth, but didn't find any words to say. Had he lost his mind? Now she wanted to push him away but couldn't. Maybe she was losing it too. Or maybe she hadn't been touched for too long, touched as who she really was.

His hand finding its way into her hair he leaned a little closer, and she could smell the alcohol, could feel his breath on her skin while their eyes were still locked.

"Let me help you. Let me help me," he mumbled, his voice reflecting the amount of alcohol in his blood. "Just…don't think. Just don't."

_Definitely drunk, _she thought and wanted to protest, knowing it was a bad idea. Nothing good could come out of this. But his hand traveled further, his fingers reaching the sensitive skin at the back of her head, and when his grip tightened to pull her towards him - it felt too good to seriously resist. Maybe this was a bad idea but what harm could it do. It could hardly be more awkward than last time, and given his present condition he would pass out sooner or later and she could leave without further talking, without risking… _Whatever_, she thought and gave in, letting him pull her closer. She could deal with the consequences later.


	19. Part 15

_A couple of hours later…

* * *

_

**d2**: **+ 2 years, 4 months**

**d3**:** − 8 months**

**

* * *

**

Part XV: Sub-clauses

* * *

Nick felt the headache before he opened his eyes, but it wasn't as bad as he would have thought. Maybe his body was getting used to the alcohol.

He rolled around, expecting to have the bed to himself, but she was still there, lying on her back, sound asleep. He lay down on his side, shoving the pillow under his head, and watched her. Her face was turned the other way but he could see her profile. She seemed relaxed. At least off guard. And it wasn't hard to imagine her reaction if she knew he could see her like that. She would hate it. Being that vulnerable, that exposed. He couldn't but smile. _Yeah, she'd hate it. _

He wondered if it meant anything that she had fallen asleep but it probably didn't. If she hadn't just happened to be in the area, she had probably come all the way from Africa and in that case it was no wonder she was tired and exhausted. She would probably be asleep now even if they hadn't… Well. If they hadn't used up all this energy. It had definitely been different than last time, and the alcohol had nothing to do with that. It hadn't been as awkward.

_Last time. _

He had tried to think of it as a faux pas, a one-time faux pas. But now it had happened again.

_Happened? It didn't just happen. _It wasn't like he had slipped on something or accidentally gotten caught up in something. Last time she had been the one to take initiative but this time it had clearly been him. He had wanted this. And although his drunk mind had made a real effort to explain it with just that, with being drunk, he realized now that it was something else.

_Maybe that's the saddest thing. _

The truth was: listening to her had made him sad. Listening while she had walked them through the years, sharing details of her life she wasn't used to share. He could tell by the way she had been looking for a structure as she went ahead, unusual for her otherwise organized way of speaking, never saying one word more than necessary. Listening to the indifference in her voice, whether she had just rattled of facts and events without any sign of self-reflection or suddenly offered deep insights, in passing, in a sub-clause, between the lines, just like that. Not disclosing any delicate information, of course, no secrets, no names, nothing of interest for an investigator, but more about herself, he was sure, than she had ever told anyone before. It had made him sad.

Realization had made him sad. He had been right about a lot of things but he hadn't even been close to understanding. He had assumed it on a rational level but it wasn't until now that he really understood: she had disguised and feigned her feelings so many times, smothered them so extensively, by now she had lost the ability to tell what was real and what was fake. She hadn't said it explicitly but it had been impossible to miss. Just like the complete lack of hope. Not a lack of hope as in hopelessness. She hadn't given up her hope. It was more like…there hadn't even been anything to give up on. It had hit him when she had started talking about that day, the day that had ended in that interrogation room. Ended with him.

She had hesitated for a moment, then revisited it, seeming more and more to be talking to herself there, as if she had never allowed herself to dwell on the events. She had continued with her thoughts during the interrogations, with him, with Alberta Green, then quickly summarized the rest of the time until her release with a few words. And he had wondered if the memories of what had happened to her were too painful, or if she was ashamed, or simply thought of it as irrelevant. But she had moved on before he could have asked, to the events of the day she had bought her ticket out of prison. The day she had helped to stop the bomb, only she hadn't used those words anymore. The reunion with Jack, these few hours between life and death, how things had been, could have been, and somewhere in yet another sub-clause how they were likely to end: with one of them killing the other. And although she obviously accepted this prediction like a simple fact, an inevitable truth that she was at peace with, she had left no doubt that she would do everything she could to be the one still standing after their final encounter. And Nick had been strangely intrigued by her will to live. People were killing themselves for much less than what she had on her conscience, people were giving up hope for much less appealing reasons. And there it had hit him. Hope didn't seem to have anything to do with it. Not for her. It was as if the word, the concept didn't exist in her thinking anymore. Or at least he couldn't detect it anywhere, not once during all of her speech, and he couldn't remember having detected it earlier either. She was struggling, and trying, and fighting, doing her best to get the result she needed. Just, hope didn't really seem to be a variable. Not in the sense of sitting back and hoping for some force beyond her control to help, and neither in the sense of hoping for things to turn out alright in the end. Hope just didn't seem to be a part of her life anymore. He wondered if it ever had been.

He watched her lying next to him, still asleep, unaware of him watching her. He wondered if there was anything else that kept her going except the mere wish for her heart to keep beating and her blood to keep running through her veins. To live, if that was what it meant to live.

He wanted to ask her. Maybe it was the only question she would answer. Cause everything else, she wouldn't. Couldn't. She had said it herself: it was too late to make amends, and there was no going back for her. _So how could she live with herself if she gives in to the questions and the doubts_. How could she keep going with that.

All that had made him sad, and had left him with the need to…to make them both forget about it. He had expected himself to regret it once he was sober, at least to be worried about it. But he wasn't. Maybe it had been a desperate attempt, a crazy idea, but it hadn't felt that wrong and it didn't feel now either. Crazy, yes, but not that wrong.

Still looking at her, another memory flashed his mind. _The fact that she's a beautiful woman has nothing to do with it?_ And letting his gaze travel over her face once more he couldn't deny that Phil was right: she was a beautiful woman. And although a part of him did worry now he wondered why he had never seen it before. As if he had been too caught up in seeing something else.

¤¤¤

She woke with the feeling of someone watching her, and immediately remembering where she was and what had happened she rolled over onto her side, turning her back on him. Not because she was ashamed, it wasn't like last time. But she didn't feel like talking either. She had told him the truth: she didn't want to discuss any of it, she hadn't come to hear his opinion. She had just needed to get it out of her system.

She had realized it the day before, after finishing the latest job. Something had to change. All the sudden musing on the past kept her from focusing on the future. And while there was nothing she could do about her past, there was a whole lot she could and needed to do about her future. If she wanted to have one - and she did.

She heard him clearing his throat, and knew he was going to say something. _Probably nothing you want to hear_, she thought and tried to get up, but his hands were suddenly around her arms, holding her back. She tried to pull away.

"Nina," he said and she stopped struggling, immediately remembering the very first time he had called her by her name, and the way it had sounded. As if he knew her deepest places. It hadn't been true back then.

She rolled her eyes but lay back down on her side, and one of his hands let go of her while the other one loosened its grip around her arm, merely lying there and holding her in place.

"I know you didn't come here to talk," he said softly, "but you're here."

"Believe it or not, I didn't come for this either," she retorted, not hiding her annoyance. But he just chuckled behind her.

"You didn't exactly fight me off," he cited her own words, and rolling her eyes once more she didn't reply. If he was so eager to say something it was probably best to let him get to it.

He waited a few seconds and then withdrew his other hand as well, finally letting go of her. She didn't move, and he took his time before he started to speak.

"I know you don't want to talk about it. I know you can't."

She lowered her eyes, staring at the sheet in front of her, glad she didn't have to face him. And a part of her hated to admit that he had probably thought of it as well and therefore not forced her to turn around. _Why? _To make her comfortable? To get on her better side? Or to make her relax and think herself safe before he started manipulating her again? But what more could he possibly want after everything she had given him last night? She had told him almost everything, and the few things she had kept to herself were to stay with her and no one else.

"I can help you."

She made a disapproving face.

"I don't need help."

He didn't object, and for some reason his silence only increased her irritation. Maybe because she knew it didn't mean that he agreed. Maybe because it left her words hanging in the air, giving her time to doubt them.

"Besides, reminding me of the past every chance you get hardly helps," she added reluctantly. _Hardly helps to forget. _

It was silly but sometimes she really just wished she could forget it all, pretend it never happened. Pretend she had chosen a different life. Only she had no idea what that life was supposed to look like. Because deep down she knew, even if she could go back, as long as she was the same person she would do it all over again. Some would call it fate or destiny. She preferred to think that it was something that was in her nature. It would always lead her to the same choices.

"You don't really need me to remind you though," he interrupted her line of thought, and she understood when his fingertips brushed over the little scar at her shoulder, where one of Jared's bullets had grazed the skin. No, she didn't need Nick to remind her. Her own body was a much more persistent reminder.

"And I _can_ help you," he insisted.

_How? _her mind exclaimed, but another question made itself heard even louder.

"Why? Why do you think you can help me? And why would you even care?"

"A, because I'm the only one who understands. And b, because we want the same thing," he explained calmly.

_The only one who understands? _She wished she could object to that.

"We don't want the same thing," she stated instead. "I want to get on with my life," she clarified. "You need to get a life."

"True," he agreed, and she could practically hear him smile. "And guess what – that's what I've been trying to do ever since I left Division. Just didn't work. Never found anything that seemed worth getting involved in, made me feel good or even just…more than occupied. It's like I'm numb. In fact, the only thing that does make me feel," he explained, "is you."

She frowned, and then glanced over her shoulder to give him a disapproving look.

"You feel alive around me because there's a good chance you'll die every time we meet. And you feel challenged because you have a sick desire to win some kind of psychological duel." She turned back around again. "That's all."

"Maybe," he admitted. "Probably. Or I just finally realized that you were right. That I spent too much time thinking about what's right or wrong, what I should do and what I'm expected to do, and now I want to get even. Play with fire, do something really forbidden. Or I feel guilty because I started all this and want to make it right. Because I'm the one who got you here." She could feel how he shrugged his shoulders. "Or maybe I just like sleeping with you."

"I get it," she cut him off before he could go any further. "I'm the new exciting challenge you were looking for all along." And she had only herself to blame for it. She should never have let things go this far. "There's only one problem: why should I play along? I told you, I'm not interested in therapy."

Hadn't he just claimed to understand that she couldn't talk any more?

"Neither am I," he replied to her surprise. "I want to leave the past behind, not rake around in it. And trust me – listening to all that once was enough. I have no desire to hear more."

She threw another skeptical glance over her shoulder before staring at the bed sheet again, trying to make her mind up about this. What he was suggesting was insane. It could never work and she didn't even want it to work! _So tell him. _

But a part of her hesitated.

"Does it really matter why?" he broke the silence, anticipating one of the questions on her mind. "I can help you. At least I'm the only one who has a chance. What do you have to lose?"

And she took a deep breath and cast her eyes round the room. Yeah, what did she have to lose?

"Just think about it," he asked. "Just think about it."

_To lose? _That wasn't quite the question. The question was did she need any help?


	20. Part 16

_Four months later…

* * *

_

**d2**:** + 2 years, 8 months**

**d3**:** − 4 months**

**

* * *

**

Part XVI: Illusions

* * *

"Still nothing?" 

"Nothing," he confirmed her apprehensions. "I've checked everything twice. Nada."

Nina gritted her teeth and said nothing, but frustration was gnawing at her. She didn't like this one bit and she knew it was going to start making her nervous.

She put her elbows up on the desk, folded her hands and ran her thumbs over her chin, pondering her options. There weren't too many.

"There is another way," the voice suggested through the speaker, and she frowned, casting a skeptical, almost disapproving glance at the telephone.

"If you want to be sure."

"I know," she replied coldly, smothering a sigh, and put her hands back on the table, her gaze absent-mindedly traveling through the room. _I know. _It was one of her options. Not one she wanted to resort to though, not unless she absolutely had to.

"I'll get back to you," she stated before aborting the call and disabling the scrambler. Leaning back in her chair then, and staring at the map on her computer screen, she sighed to herself.

"Where are you, Jack?"

There was still no sign of him, and the fact that his tracks had been covered so thoroughly was as comforting as it was concerning because it could only mean that he was working undercover. Deep undercover. Maybe he had even gone dark, but he was definitely up to something, probably once again trying to save the world. Or at least his country. If he had just taken off on his own, CTU or Division would have reacted. If he had really disappeared, someone would have started looking for him. And if he was dead – well, either way she would have found out by now. An undercover job was the only explanation, and considering how long he had been out of sight it had to be something big.

She played with the keypad of her laptop, tempted to try and hack into the CTU server. She knew she could do it, the problem wasn't to get in. Not for her anyway. The problem was to get out again without being detected, and that risk was just a little too high to take a chance. Not when she already knew she probably wouldn't find anything anyway.

Instead she tried to brainstorm, quarrying her memory for eligible targets. _What terrorist group could you be infiltrating, Jack? What fish is big enough to assign someone with your skills and in your position._ He wasn't director of CTU anymore, but according to her information there had been some rearrangements at CTU and Jack was running his own show now as head of field ops. Not a big surprise actually. He had always been more of a field agent than a bureaucrat. She was just a bit stunned that he was really still with CTU. After everything that had happened…

She snapped out of the thought before it could take her any further.

What else was he supposed to do anyway? CTU, the field, serving his country – it was his life. Would be as long as he was breathing. The only thing that was conflicting with his insane will to sacrifice everything for the right course was his longing for revenge. Which was why she was uncomfortable with not knowing where he was, especially if no one else knew either. Cause as much as the job should keep him focused on something else, and as much as it should make her feel safe, the fact that no one was monitoring his actions put her in danger. If he had really gone dark and was without any supervision, what would keep him from taking care of some private business if he had some spare time on his hands? She had never been a field agent herself, but after seven years of working with them, she knew the drill. Despite all the debriefings and the reports, there was always a lot more that went down and that no one accounted for. And even though someone would eventually find out - since her death would arouse some attention - what did Jack have to lose? He had always gotten away with a slap on the hand, and she doubted anyone would really care to prosecute him for killing a traitor. Plus, Jack would be smart enough not to leave any evidence behind. Otherwise he would have killed her back then, after she had given them her information, when he hadn't needed her anymore. The only reason why he hadn't put a bullet into her head right there and then was probably that he knew there would be a better chance. And now they were both waiting for that chance. Jack to take it, and she to foil it.

_There is another way_, the words echoed in her mind.

Sure, she had thought of it herself. But it involved her employer, and it would raise a hell of a lot of attention. Attention she didn't need. _On the other hand…_ Her employer had the best contacts at his disposal, including key players in the international and domestic terrorist networks. If word got out that Jack was a federal agent who was trying to infiltrate one of those organizations there was a good chance his cover would be blown. And she wouldn't have to worry about him anymore.

She sighed. _No. _Setting him up to get killed had never worked before, and she would expose herself. There was a good reason why she hadn't mentioned the threat Jack posed to her employer before, and it would be best to keep things that way. _But no one has to know the information came from you, _a part of her brain argued. If she arranged things right…and even Jack's luck had to end at some point. He was as mortal as everybody else…

_No_, she decided once and for all. She wouldn't do it.

But she had to find a way to deal with this. She was already starting to get nervous, whether she liked it or not. The constant need to look over her shoulder had taken its toll on her. Two and a half years, a little longer even – no surprise she was starting to feel the consequences.

_Starting? _She had started a long time ago. Recently it was just getting harder, and really getting to her. No wonder that either - everything that had happened those last eight months, the mess she had been, Nick…

She pushed the thought aside. _Not now. _She had to take care of something.

Darting a glance at her wristwatch, she leaned forward and sat up, starting to work the keypad. She had to contact Amador one more time before she left.

¤¤¤

The connecting flight was boarding according to schedule, and Nick leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, and was asleep before the plane had even lifted off the ground. He dreamt, and although the dream felt pretty real, a part of him was aware that it was just a dream.

_"I can help you," he whispered into her ear, and she turned around, staring at him incredulously. "So what are you suggesting? That we hook up?" "Why not?" he replied, and liked the shocked look on her face. "Is it really that absurd? Think about it: we want the same thing, and it was more or less the same thing that brought us here." "Is that so?" she sneered, propping her upper body up on her elbow. "What about me being a monster? What about you are nothing like me?" She gave him a challenging look, but he just smiled. "Yeah, well, contradictions attract. And nobody's perfect." She rolled her eyes. "You're drunk." "I know. But let's face it: you're the only good thing I got going for me. And that won't change when I'm sober." Again she stared at him, obviously not sure if she should laugh at him or be outraged. "You really have a problem with your ego. And I don't think this bed is big enough for the three of us." She wanted to get up, but he touched her arm and held her back. "What does my ego have to do with this? I simply think it would be best for both of us." "For both of us?" she echoed. "Yes," he confirmed. "I can help us both. We can help us both." "I know, I know," she interjected. "Fixing you by fixing me. But what if I don't wanna be fixed?" "But you do," he stated, knowing he was right. "You could never admit it to yourself or anyone, but you do." And she didn't even try to object, just glared at him for a second but changed tactics then. "Alright, what if I don't want you? Can your ego imagine that? Can you live with that?" But he just smiled at her, trying to stroke her hair although he knew she wouldn't let him. "I could live with that, but I don't think I have to. You know that I'm a nice guy and that you don't have to kill me, and I know that there's a part of you that is still human and that would actually regret the things you've done if there was a way for you to live with that." Now she wanted to object but had obviously trouble finding the words. Or maybe she didn't know where to start. "Admit it, we understand each other. We know how the other one ticks. Who else would you say qualifies for that?" "Yeah," she finally found her voice and the usual sneering intonation back, "we're a match made in heaven." "Indeed. And the fact that you slept with me twice tells me you find me mildly attractive." "Mildly attractive?" "At least." And when he kissed her, she didn't resist. Not too much anyway, and a moment later their bodies were tangled up in the bed sheets and each other, and he was just thinking that he should probably brush his teeth before proceeding with this. _

Then the flight attendance woke him up. The meal was being served, and he quickly pulled the tray table down into his lap and ran a hand over his forehead. _That one was new_. Things hadn't exactly happened like that. _Not quite_, he thought, remembering how she had lain with her back to him while he had asked her to think about it, and how she had quickly gotten up then. And this time he hadn't held her back.

He wasn't particularly hungry, but he forced some of the food down anyway, hoping it would wake him up. The trays were collected, and for a while he managed to read his newspaper, but at some point tiredness overwhelmed him again.

_He was home. It was summer, and he was in the garden outside his parents' house. Dressed up in a tux, he was striding over the lawn, surrounded by equally dressed up people. Some of them, he remembered, old friends of his parents, others friends of his, from school, college, even some people he'd worked with here and there, all over the country. And even while dreaming, a part of his mind realized the absurdity of all those people gathered at the same place. This place. "Hey there, kiddo," he heard a deep voice, and he turned around, and saw Davis. Standing in his parents' garden with a glass of whiskey in his hand, and the typical cigarette in his mouth. "Congratulations!" the older man said in his typical dry manner, raising his glass and emptying it in one gulp, then smiling and pointing at something behind Nick, who turned around and recognized his parents. His parents who hadn't aged one day, still looking the same he remembered them, the same they had looked the last time he had seen them alive. His father's arm around his mother's waist, they were standing on the porch, and he walked over to them. "Mum. Dad," he said, his voice weak and his eyes wet. But they just smiled at him, and he was about to reach out and touch them, as if to make sure they were really there, when he suddenly heard a loud bang behind him. He spun around and caught sight of Nina. The gun in her hand still smoking, the barrel pointing at the lifeless body to her feet. And he stared at the unknown stranger, and back at her, but she just shrugged her shoulders. "You know I didn't want to." He frowned. "Yeah, you know she can't help it," Davis was suddenly next to him again. "It's in her nature." But Nick only darted him a quick glance before worriedly turning back to his parents again. "I'm so sorry," he started, but his father raised a hand to cut him off. "Son, you know that this is not what we had in mind for you." "I know, Dad, I'm sorry," Nick stammered, but saw his mother still smiling at him. "Oh, Nicky, what your father is trying to say is that we're happy as long as you are." "Thanks, Mum." The music set in, and he felt a hand on his shoulder and another one around his waist, pulling him away and around. They danced. He and Nina, in his parents' garden, with all those people around, watching them, some smiling, some whispering behind their hands, but he didn't care. Gazing at the woman in his arms, who was taking turns in smiling back at him and suspiciously scanning their surroundings. "Can't you at least relax for as long as we're dancing?" he asked her, and she looked at him, surprised, as if she hadn't even been aware of what she was doing. About to say something, she suddenly hesitated, her eyes widening, her hand sliding out of his, clutching her chest. "What's wrong?" he asked, but she just shook her head, letting go of him, standing, faltering, staggering back. "Nina," he tried again. "What's wrong?" But again she just shook her head, still clutching her chest, obviously not able to breathe, stumbling, falling, sinking to the ground. He stared at her but noticed something at the periphery of his field of vision, and turning his head he caught sight of a single man, standing in the distance, his arms hanging down at his sides, his eyes riveted on Nina. Hating eyes, revengeful eyes. Eyes he was going to kill her with, as if his look was choking her. And she had noticed him as well, lying on the grass, almost peaceful now, holding Jack's stare, not struggling anymore, and then, when the color started leaving her face, looking up into the sky, as if trying to catch a last glimpse of it before her eyes would fall shut. _

He sat up and instinctively looked around, but no one seemed to pay attention to him, and he quickly wiped some sweat off his forehead. It was always the same dream, and as always, it left him with the same tight feeling around his chest, as if he couldn't get enough air. He loosened the collar of his shirt and moved around in his seat, trying to get into a more comfortable position. Dream interpretation had never been his special field, but it didn't have to be in this case. It was pretty obvious anyway.

He still remembered the first night he had jerked awake, sitting upright in his bed, soaked in sweat, thankful that he was alone. Since then the dream kept coming back. _It just keeps coming back_.

The flight attendance passed his seat row, and he stopped her to ask for a cup of coffee, but they were about to land. He turned to the window and peered outside, recognizing smaller cities and towns underneath them, and after a while, finally, the airport complex and the runways. The sky was grey, the weather unfriendly, and he wondered what time it was. His inner clock was still on Pacific Daylight time, not on Central European.

¤¤¤

Nina took another sip from the water bottle before throwing it back on the passenger seat and glanced into the rearview mirror. Traffic had been light since she had crossed the border, and her mind and thoughts were drifting more and more, the closer she got to her destination. A part of her still warned her that she was fooling herself, that it could never work out, but there was also a feeling of comfort somewhere.

_This is insane_, her own words echoed in her head, and there was no one in the whole wide world who could seriously claim the opposite. Only the whole wide world had no idea. If anyone had, they wouldn't understand. She hardly did herself.

_I can help you, _Nick had claimed repeatedly. _What do you have to lose? _And she hadn't answered. Neither when he had asked her to think about it, to consider what he had been implying. Instead she had gotten up to get dressed – not without noticing, of course, that it was already the second time she had been in bed with him, and the second time she was fleeing from the scene afterwards. And once again, she had felt angry and annoyed. With herself, with him, with this whole messed up situation.

------------------------FLASHBACK------------------------

"What are you doing?" she remarked dismissively, getting to her feet and turning to pick up her clothes. "Suggesting that we hook up?" She pulled her shirt over her head. _Think about it? About what? _She had ruled out talking and analyzing, and he had agreed. What else was left? What on earth was he suggesting?

"To get some perspective," Nick countered behind her. "To find something that makes it all worth it, something to put your hopes in. If you remember what that is. Hope?"

She wrinkled her nose as if to say _whatever_, but she wasn't so sure. Did she?

"You want to leave the past behind?" he went on, "then you need something else to go for."

"And that something would be you?" she cut him off, grabbing her pants to put them back on. "A relationship? Love?" She almost felt like laughing. If it hadn't been so sad. Because he was right, of course, they both needed a new perspective, something to go for. She knew for sure she did and it was obvious he did as well. But there was no way they could…be that perspective for each other, no way they could just look at each other without being reminded of the past, of what they had done or almost done, what she had done most of all. There was no point in even discussing what he was suggesting.

She noticed he hadn't reacted to her mockery and turned around, still holding on to her pants.

He was lying back in bed, not even looking at her, and the expression on his face reminded her all too much of the night before. Burdened, troubled, unspeakably tired. She almost felt sorry for him.

"Look, Nick," she sighed, tilting her head, and shifting her weight from one leg to the other. "You're a good guy."

"I know," he interjected wearily, still staring at the ceiling. "That's the whole problem, isn't it?"

She frowned.

"Otherwise it wouldn't be this complicated. If I were a bit more like you, if I had killed a few people –".

"But you aren't," she cut him off. _You haven't._

He sighed, and scrutinizing his expression, she noticed he looked almost pained now.

"I realized something," he said, sounding so sad she abstained from any sneering remark. "I realized…that a part of me was glad when you showed up here."

_Because it meant the games could go on_, she wanted to comment but once again remained silent.

"Part of me always was, every time we ran into each other. And I always thought I knew why. But…I'm afraid I was wrong. Or not exactly wrong, something just changed."

"What's your point?" she interrupted, starting to lose her patience. She should go.

"My point," he stated, still keeping his eyes fixed on the ceiling above him, "my point is that it's gotten worse."

She didn't understand right away, or maybe something in her just refused.

"I don't want you to leave," he shrugged. "I need you. God help me, but it's true."

She took a deep breath and cast her eyes round the room, trying to take in what he had just said.

"Nick," she started, shaking her head, but he cut her off.

"Forget all the bullshit I've said, all the pseudo-explanations we came up with. It's all a bunch of crap. The lame excuses for why I didn't turn you in, why I helped you…even why you didn't kill me - everything's bullshit."

She raised her brows, surprised by the sudden harshness in his voice.

"You were right about one thing: I felt alive because my life was threatened, and I felt challenged because I saw an opportunity. But my ego had nothing to do with it. After seeing you at Division, I just had to know if there was a part of you that could still feel, have emotions. And once I realized there was, I wanted that part to take over." She could see a sad smile playing around his lips. "I guess I succeeded in some way, and now…now I just…want to make things right."

_Of course you do_, she thought, rolling her eyes.

"It's always about making something right, isn't it?" she sneered, daring him to look at her. "And now you want to make me right? You want me to regret what I did, to have a bad conscience…to say I'm sorry? We both know there's nothing I can do, but you want me to try anyway?"

Still refusing to look at her, he turned his head an idea, even further away from her, as if he didn't want her to look at him either.

"But it's like I said," she stated, lowering her gaze, and suddenly realizing she was still holding her pants. "You're a good guy. You couldn't even do anything bad if you wanted to. And I'm…," she hesitated, looking for an appropriate word but not finding one. "Well, we both know what I am." There was no way for them to be together.

------------------------FLASHBACK------------------------

She noticed the bump in the road a second before the tire hit it, and bracing herself for the jolt she snapped out of the memory.

She glanced at her watch. Still a good two hours' drive ahead.

¤¤¤

Nick entered the hotel lobby, and took a moment to have a look around. Big signs were announcing the conference, and in case anyone would miss those, the impressive amount of busy-looking conference members roaming the lobby and the neighboring lounge was a pretty good hint. He almost felt invisible in the middle of all this bustling.

He walked up to the reception desk, and after fixing the formalities an overly friendly hotel manager insisted - in flawless English with just an idea of an accent - on having his luggage sent up to his room. Too tired to fight over his one travel bag, Nick let it go, and was glad when he was finally showed to his room and left alone. The bed looked really inviting, but as tempting as the prospect of a good couple of hours of sleep was, he decided to take a shower instead.

A few minutes later, he stepped into the shower stall and let the steaming stream of hot water drum onto his face, shoulders and chest. His stiff body soon relaxed, and he felt the blood circulating in his veins, making his skin tingle and sending a warm prickle through his muscles and up his spine. Even his tired mind came slowly back to life again.

_I need you. Forget all the bullshit, all the pseudo-explanations. It's all a bunch of crap, _his mind suddenly recalled pieces of their conversation. The conversation they had had all those weeks and months ago, when he had tried to come clean, to unravel the mess they had made with all their analyzing and interpreting, all the hiding and the seeking. Because by then, he had been pretty sure, neither of them had been able to tell the difference between what was true and what was just sounding so convincing that it could be true. There had been too much psychology, too much digging, and too much insecurity - an excellent breeding ground for mutually posed ideas and explanations. He had tried to get to the bottom of things, thinking that if there was anything that needed to be fixed, it was whatever it was that was going on with them.

------------------------FLASHBACK------------------------

"It's like I said," she stated, "you're a good guy. And I'm…well, we both know what I am."

It sounded factual, indifferent, almost casual, and he finally turned his head back around and looked at her. She had put her pants on and was holding his gaze with the same expression on her face that he had figured out that day in the cabin. The sad resignation with which she was stating what was inevitable. Or at least what seemed like it to her.

"Yeah, we do," he uttered, feeling belligerence surging up inside him. "We know what you are. So what? You want a fucking medal?" He had almost chickened out a minute ago, but now he was determined to go through with it. "Or is this supposed to intimidate me?" he continued, encouraged by the way she frowned at him.

"It's supposed to remind you where we're standing," she countered, but he dismissed it.

"No, I think you're trying to avoid what this is really about."

"And what would that be?" she sneered.

"That we need each other. That there's something that keeps us coming back," he explained, overlooking the amused smile she displayed. "You can say whatever you want, you can tell yourself whatever you have to, but you didn't just come back because you needed a reason not to kill me. You could have made that decision from afar. You came back for the same reason I did: you needed someone who understands. We all do, it's one of the most basic human needs. The need to socialize, to be recognized, to be understood. But I don't really have to explain that to you, do I?"

He didn't, of course, she knew it as well as he did. And the way she glared at him a moment longer before looking down confirmed his assumption. Maybe she really hadn't realized it before today, but now she couldn't seriously deny it any longer.

"And that's what you want from me?" she asked, looking up again, and tilting her head back.

He shrugged his shoulders. "It's the best explanation I have right now. Everything that goes beyond that...is too disturbing. You know that, or why else didn't you ask any further? About why I want you to regret, why I want you to…why I'm so keen on helping you."

Again she cast her eyes down, turned her head, let her gaze wander around aimlessly, avoiding him for what suddenly seemed like an eternity.

"I thought so," he almost whispered, his throat dry again, his voice hoarse. Why was he always getting thirsty around her? But he didn't get time to think about it, because she quickly spun around again, glaring at him, her eyes penetrating him.

"You're right," she explained coldly, "it is disturbing. That doesn't mean it's true."

"No, it doesn't," he conceded. "But I can tell you what's true."

She rolled her eyes, as if she wanted to say _here we go_, but he didn't let it stop him.

"It's true that you've managed on your own so far, but it's also true that at some point that won't be enough any more. And I think you've reached that point now. So, basically, you got two choices: either you put up with me, or you find someone who's just like you."

She didn't say anything, and her expression didn't give away what she was thinking, but the fact that she held his gaze, scrutinizing his expression as if to evaluate the implications of his words, told him they hadn't left her unaffected.

------------------------FLASHBACK------------------------

Nick turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, grabbing one of the towels. He had to smile at the memory. _Someone just like you. _That prospect couldn't be too tempting. She wasn't loyal to anyone, she had never trusted anyone, and he had doubted that she had ever cared about anyone but herself. _What a pairing that would be. _

He went over into the bedroom and checked his watch. It was almost ten o'clock. The conference had probably started by now. He reached for the phone to order some breakfast.

¤¤¤

Nina let the door fall shut behind her, and dropped her wallet and the keys onto the little sideboard in the hallway before proceeding into the room. She was traveling light, just one small suitcase, which she dragged along and then lifted up onto the bed. Best to get the unpacking done right away.

She took her coat off and walked over to the closet, opened it, and moved some hangers from one side to the other before she returned to her suitcase. She was done within a couple of minutes, thanks to good routine and practice, and threw a last inspecting glance over her wardrobe. Nothing too fancy, but just the right collection to melt in. Standing out was the last thing she wanted. And in case she had to take off in a hurry, it would be no problem to leave her clothes behind. It was all more or less off-the-peg and bought in different countries. There was nothing that could be traced back to her or even a specific location.

She stowed the suitcase away. She knew there was no way to protect herself one hundred percent, there were no guarantees. But she would do everything in her power not to go down again, and if she did anyway, then at least not because she had been incautious.

She slid her shoes off, and lay down on the bed for a moment, trying to ascertain the state of mind she was in. With some satisfaction, she noticed that she felt good. Confident, calm, and actually… She smiled to herself. Yes, she was good. And lingering in the feeling, she closed her eyes, and her thoughts and mind soon trailed off again.

_Everything else is too disturbing_, she remembered Nick saying. _You know that. Or why didn't you ask why I want you to regret, why I'm so keen on helping you?_ And she remembered her response as well. _You're right, it is disturbing. That doesn't mean it's true._ A lame attempt to avoid the issue, to avoid talking about what she had been avoiding. Because it hadn't just been disturbing, it had been unthinkable. And just as impossible to discuss.

------------------------FLASHBACK------------------------

"You got two choices: either you put up with me, or you find someone who's just like you."

He kept looking at her, sitting up in bed now, almost grinning, smirking, and she wished she could just dismiss his words.

"You know how to charm a girl," she finally managed, a sneering smile on her face. "And here I was wondering why you're single."

"So, I take it, you don't want to talk about this either," he countered after a moment, not responding to her mockery.

"There is nothing to talk about," she determined curtly. This had already gone too far, but letting it go even further would be a disaster.

She saw him shrugging his shoulders.

"Then why are you still here? Why do you always stay longer than you had planned? And why do you keep running off afterwards? I mean," he took his turn to sneer, "this situation right now - feels somehow familiar, doesn't it?"

She could hardly deny it. _But you can end it. _

"Don't get used to it," she remarked dryly, and turned to look for her shoes while he swung his legs out of the bed and sat on the edge.

"I don't get it," he mumbled, burying his face in his hands for a moment. "What are you so scared of?"

_Just ignore him_, she told herself while putting her shoes on, careful to preserve some dignity.

"You know I'm right," he continued, sounding as if he really couldn't understand why she didn't see things his way. Or rather why she couldn't admit seeing them his way. "You're not even denying it."

She darted him a meaningful look. _Because it's not worth it._

"I would understand it if…if you didn't like me."

She turned around. "Like you?" She couldn't but laugh at him. "What is this - sixth grade?"

"Alright, let me rephrase that," he sneered back. "I would understand it if it was because you find me completely unattractive. But we slept together. Twice. And I don't think –"

"You keep repeating that," she cut him off, annoyed yet again. "What do you want? A hug? An engagement ring?"

To her surprise, he just laughed. A sad, but genuine laughter. No mockery, no sarcasm.

"A little less dramatic would do just fine," he said then, getting to his feet and looking around as if he needed to think about what to do next. "I just wish I could get you to…," he shook his head, running a hand over his forehead. "To stop pretending. To admit that a part of you needs this just as much as I do."

He looked up again, and when their eyes met it almost seemed as if he was pleading with her. But just for a second.

"I'm not asking you to marry me, I'm not asking you to _love_ me," he rolled his eyes, "I'm not even asking you to trust me. Hell, I don't trust you either, and just for the record: love has nothing to do with this!"

"I'm relieved," she stated sarcastically, but a part of her was indeed relieved. _At least something we agree on._

"I know it's not healthy," he explained glumly. "And I'm perfectly aware that my…needs…are just a product of all my efforts to try and get inside your head and under your skin." She abstained from any comment. It was pointless to deny that he had managed both. "But I need this. For some…sick reason. And we both know you do too."

She was still holding his gaze, trying to maintain an indifferent expression.

"It's that simple," he shrugged. "So, where's the problem? Why can't you just…," he started, but left the sentence uncompleted. "Forget it."

------------------------FLASHBACK------------------------

Nina opened her eyes, and looked up at the ceiling, hearing those last words echoing in her head. _It's that simple._

She stayed like this a few moments longer, before rolling over onto her side and reaching for the telephone on the nightstand, quickly dialing a number. She hung up again after the first signal though and lay down on her back again.

_I know it's not healthy. _Damn right, it wasn't. _But I need this. And we both know you do too. _

She had long stopped to wonder about the weird turns her life was taking and accepted that certain things were completely beyond her control. But when it came to Nick, she couldn't make up her mind whether she had been in control too much or too little.

She sighed slightly and got up from the bed. Maybe she would never know. But it hardly mattered now. _What's done is done, right?_

Putting her shoes back on and making her way over to the bathroom to have a quick glance in the mirror, she dialed again.

¤¤¤

Nick sat in one of the comfortable chairs of his hotel room, right in front of the glass wall looking out over the city, and peered through the gray rain curtain. Even now the old buildings looked beautiful, and he realized how much he liked being in Europe again. The continent's variety of nations and cultures fascinated him, and he wondered if his lifetime would be enough to see all of them. Being out traveling again felt good and made him forget the exertions of the long journey to reach his destination.

The phone rang, once, and he frowned and glanced to his watch, but got up, and went to pick up the receiver. Placing it next to the station, he kept the line busy, and returned to his chair. Without taking his eyes off the marvelous view, he reached out to choose another croissant from the rich buffet that the room waiter had brought up and arranged on a tiny breakfast table next to him. He had eaten half of it, when he heard the discreet humming of the electrical lock, and how the door was quickly being opened and closed again. He didn't turn around at the footsteps behind him, light and muted by the soft carpets, didn't react when he heard the key card being dropped onto a table, the receiver being placed back on the station again. Only when he sensed her standing behind him and felt her hand on his shoulder did he look up.

"Hey," he whispered more than said, noticing she was taking in the view as well.

"Hey," she replied, meeting his eyes, her hand still resting lightly on his shoulder. "You look tired."

"It's just been a long trip," he sighed, revealing a thin smile. "Did you have breakfast?"

She sat down and joined him, and later on they went out. Sightseeing was cancelled due to the persistent rain, but they went to a museum and afterwards to see a movie and concluded their little excursion with having dinner at a restaurant. It was already becoming something like a tradition, although it was only the…what, fifth time they met like this? First they would check in separately, sticking to her instructions and precautions, which he sometimes thought were a bit exaggerated, but who was he to argue with her. There was a reason why she managed to move freely without getting caught.

He had objected in the beginning though, trying to convince her that there was no need to constantly violate the conditions of her pardon. After all, there was a reason why those stipulations were in place, and she could be lucky she was at large in the first place. _You think I should be in prison_, she had stated calmly, and he had said no, while a part of him had been thinking yes. _I just think it's taking an unnecessary risk, that's all_, he had parried, and although she had given him a meaningful look, she had left it at that. And he hadn't brought the subject up again either, not then and not later. After all, trying to put himself in her position, he could understand that she didn't want to spend the rest of her life in Africa.

She had left his apartment. That morning four months ago, that morning after their second night together, she had left, and since he had been drunk for most parts of the night, he had started to wonder if maybe he had just imagined everything? Dreamt it. Her long confession, her opening up, everything she had told him? Everything that had happened afterwards and in the early morning? He had started wondering but then, two weeks later, he had found a flight ticket in his mail. No letter, no explanation, just a flight ticket. He had used it, of course, and at his arrival found a message that had been left for him at the airport. The name of the hotel and the reservation number. He had taken a cab, and then waited in his hotel room. Later on, he had learnt that she had been at the airport as well, watching him to make sure no one was following him. Not because she had been expecting him to set her up, or anyone to have a reason to suspect he was going to meet her of all people, but _you can't be careful enough. _Then she had explained the trick with the phone - for the times he would arrive before her. And he had repressed a smile at her casual way of telling him she wanted them to meet again.

She would call once, just one signal. Then wait a minute, and call again. If the line was busy, it meant that he was alone and everything alright. If the phone kept ringing or if he answered, she would know there was a problem. It was simple and efficient and so far there had never been a problem.

She had continued to send him tickets, continued to set the time and place for their meetings. Always in hotels, each time at a different place. Twice in South America, twice in Europe. And always at places where they could easily melt in. This time the conference provided their cover.

The first day they always went out, exploring the city, the culture, and in her case, he was sure, checking out the possible escape routes as well. Although she had probably done that in advance already. He had never asked her, but he guessed that – besides the threat of local law enforcement - she was afraid the incident with Jared and the other guy might repeat itself. Well, not afraid, but she rather reckoned on it happening again instead of being caught off guard. Sometimes he wondered how many people there were who had a reason to kill her. _And how many with a good reason. A legitimate reason. _

They went to bed early that night, both still tired form the journey, and at first he slept deep and dreamless, like a baby. But some time around four in the morning, he woke abruptly. And he knew why.

It was the fucking dream again.

Careful not to wake her, he got up, and went into the bathroom. Then he returned to the bedroom and stood by the window, watching her sleep. She would get up soon and sneak back into her own room, somewhere on the same floor. _Always the lowest floor. _He had suggested to get a double room once, to avoid the inconveniencies. But she was right: it was wiser to have separated rooms, for his own safety. Easier to account for as well, if necessary.

_Do you ever do anything without planning how to get out of it? _he had asked her, lying in bed, and she had smiled that typical sneering smile, tugging at the bedspread and wrapping the covers around her. _I got involved with you, didn't I? _

He sighed soundlessly and turned to look out the window. He had never thought things would happen the way they had. _Love has nothing to do with this_, he remembered his own words, remembered them to be true back then. But things had changed since then. He still needed her, he still knew the reason for that was in his past, and he still struggled with his conscience about being with her, about understanding her, about not despising her the way he should. But over the last three months, the nature of his need to be with her had changed. Slowly at first, and subtle, then faster and more distinct. And although she was careful not to give herself away, he knew she was starting to enjoy their arrangement as well. Almost nothing was left of the initial awkwardness, the ineptitude around each other, the way they had almost been embarrassed when they were alone, when they were silent, when they were looking at each other. Now it just felt…it felt good.

_Yeah? Then why do you have that same dream over and over again? If you feel so good about this? If there's nothing wrong with it?_

He threw his head back and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the voice that kept reminding him. Reminding him how unacceptable the situation was, reminding him every time he was tempted to let it slip his mind. And he knew it wouldn't just stop. His conscience wouldn't just stop reminding him.

_Yeah, because I'm a good guy_, he thought sarcastically, and darted a glance over his shoulder, turned around to look at her sleeping figure under the bedspread.

¤¤¤

He had come back to bed and eventually fallen asleep again, but she shad sensed him lying awake for a long time, and even now he was restless, tossing and turning next to her. It wasn't the first time.

Lying on her back, she placed a hand under her head and stared up at the ceiling. She had a pretty good idea what he was struggling with. She had tried to tell him, warn him that this was gonna happen. It was inevitable. And she couldn't help but think that a part of her had just gone along with this crazy scenario to prove to him that she was right, that he wouldn't be able to handle it. But that was only half the story. The main reason why she had decided to give it a shot was that he was right as well: she did need him. But only partly because he understood, only partly because she needed at least one person to recognize her for who she truly was. What she needed even more than that was someone to remind her. Of little things, of normal things, of what she seemed to have forgotten.

_See, Nina, that's the difference between us. I don't walk around feeling I have to express my gratitude to everyone who didn't kill me._

Because he still accepted that as the rule rather than the exception - not to get shot just like that, without having a say, simply because someone else had other plans.

_I got you a doctor because you needed one. I know this sounds weird to you, but in my world it just makes perfect sense._

In hers it didn't. And it had suddenly seemed so sad, never been so clear, never been more appalling.

She had hated him for forcing all these conflicting emotions on her, for making her realize a part of her was still human, still weak. But she had also come to realize that she didn't want to lose that weakness. For a long time she had used to think she already had, and she knew she had been close, but now she owned up to the fact that it would also mean to lose herself. That it would be giving away something she could never get back once it was gone. And maybe she was getting old, maybe she was losing her touch, but she didn't want it to be gone. Not even when it meant that looking at herself in the mirror was sometimes harder, that doing what needed to be done to complete a job or stay alive caused her to have second thoughts every now and then. She needed him because he seemed to be the only linkage between her and the rest of the human species, between her and the leftovers of humanity she still had inside her. And every time they met like this, it was like a vacation, like a trip to some surreal normality that she could dive in for a few days before surfacing again, before returning to reality. The reality of her world.

He had kept his word and not tried to analyze her anymore – or at least he hadn't confronted her with any theories or findings. And they hadn't discussed her past again. It came up occasionally, but mostly in an almost innocent context. Like the times he had told some childhood memory or adolescence anecdote, and more implied for than actually asked her to share something as well.

She was still surprised how easily they had found other things to talk about. She had expected it to be awkward, that they wouldn't have anything to say to each other and nothing to resort to but certain physical activities. Not that she minded those, but they couldn't just have that as a connection. In that case she could just as well look for someone less complicated to be with. Someone who was a bit more like her. But they had cleared that hurdle relatively quickly because he had insisted on them going out and doing something, some kind of cultural activity, sightseeing, a museum, an exposition, anything. She remembered herself being reluctant at first, but also how he had made them joining a bunch of tourists on a guided city tour. Remembered how he had commented on buildings and monuments, revealed a passionate interest for history, and made fun behind the backs of some German holidaymakers. And all of a sudden, she had found herself engaging in a conversation or just listening when he had narrated a legend, stifling a laughter when he made a joke. She had found herself having a good time. And just like that, they had somehow discovered a new way of being together.

It had become something like a ritual now, that first day out, to shake everything else off, to relax, to find each other. The rest of the time – usually a couple of days – they didn't have a program, didn't need one either. Things to do and to say came easy by now, as if it had never been any different. And it was just as easy to forget that it had been. Except for those nights when she could feel him lying awake or sleeping restless. Or the nights when he drank just a little too much and then slept like a log.

She sighed inwardly and shifted a little, wondering what to make of this. She had known being with her would give him something to deal with, she had told him so. But while it could hardly come as a surprise now, and while a part of her was inclined to turn a blind eye on it and let him fight his own battle, she realized she had to deal with it too - sooner or later. And since later could easily turn into too late, sooner was always better. It was obvious his conscience was plaguing him, and at some point, restless nights and too much alcohol wouldn't be the only symptoms anymore. He could probably go on like this for a while - if he should be willing to – but it was only a question of time until it would tear him into pieces. _And what's going to happen then? _

She didn't think he would go so far as to try and clear his conscience by turning her in, but he would do something.

_Of course he will. You thought this would just go on forever? _

She made a grimace. _Of course not_. Everything else would be an illusion. It was a nice retreat they had created, but as all retreats it was a solution of temporary nature. Sooner or later they would have to face reality again. They couldn't just continue like this.

But she realized, right here, right now, a part of her wouldn't mind. Wouldn't mind at all.


	21. Part 17

_Four days later…

* * *

_

**d2**:**+ 2 years, 8 months**

**d3**:** − 4 months

* * *

**

**Part XVII: Part of this

* * *

**

"Let me do it," Nick suggested, but Nina just smirked.

It was their last night, and although they had planned to stay out a little longer the rain had once again thwarted their plans. Neither of them had felt like sitting inside a noisy pub or bar, and so they had returned to the hotel where he had pulled Nina inside his room.

"What time is your flight tomorrow?" he had asked, leaning his back against the door, and she had turned around and taken a few steps away from him.

"Early."

Watching her look around, he had tried to ignore the fact that she was still keeping any information from him that could compromise her arrangements. It shouldn't bother him, should it? But it did.

He had waited until she had finished her inspection of the room, quickly seeming to check if anyone had been there in their absence. Another thing he tried to ignore: the way she was always on her guard, always looking over her shoulder. Reminding him constantly of their situation, of who she was, of whom he was with. Sometimes he managed, sometimes he didn't.

"How long until next time?" he had asked, moving into the room as well.

"I don't know yet," she had shrugged her shoulders and walked over to the window. Standing there and looking outside she had looked a little tired.

"Where?" he had wanted to know, noticing the little smile playing over her face.

"Where would you like to go?" she had offered sarcastically.

And then he had said it.

"Let me do it." But seeing her just smiling at him, smirking, a bit condescendingly, he repeated, insisted, "Let me pick a place".

And finally, she turned her head around to face him, frowning slightly but still looking a bit amused, as if to determine whether he was really serious. He held her gaze and she was the first one to lower her eyes.

"No."

"No?" he echoed, raising his brows. "That's all?"

"It's too risky," she explained, and although he knew that she didn't mean it like that, he suddenly couldn't hold back his remark.

"Right. I could set you up."

Rolling her eyes, she made a face as if to say: _I'm too tired for this_.

"You know that's not the point."

"Do I?" he countered but knew it was just a rhetorical question. _Of course I do. _He was just irritated. _Because…? _

She stepped away from the window and started to cross the room, moving towards the door.

"I still got some packing to do."

"No, you don't," he remarked annoyed, taking his jacket off and throwing it onto the bed. "I bet you're all set already," he added, noticing the glance she darted him and staring back at her. "Won't take you longer than five minutes, will it?"

She seemed to hesitate and for a moment they just stood like that, seizing each other up.

"Stay," he said a little softer, realizing he didn't want her to leave yet.

¤¤¤

Later she glanced at the clock on his nightstand, thinking she would have to get up again soon. Not to catch a flight, of course, but because she had to make it all the way to the border and further on to her next destination. She wanted to arrive in good time and go over everything once more before meeting with Amador again. She should probably try to get some sleep now. But feeling the warmth of Nick's body not to far from her own, she realized she wanted to stay awake a little longer, just lying in the dark, not thinking about anything beyond this moment or outside this hotel room.

"What if I don't show up?"

His voice snapped her out of her thoughts and it took a moment before she understood and another one before she reacted.

She sighed.

"What would you do if I just don't show up one day?"

_Assume that you came to your senses_, she thought but didn't say it. Sooner or later he would have to realize that this was not what he really wanted. And she was lucky if not showing up was all he would do.

_Right…._

"Assume that you missed your flight?"

"I'm serious," he retorted and she stifled another sigh, relieved he couldn't see her face in the dark.

"What do you want me to say?" she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.

"How about the truth?" he asked after a moment's hesitation, and she wondered if he maybe hadn't planned for the conversation to take this turn. But it hardly mattered now.

"I'd try to find out if there's a specific reason for your absence."

That was the truth. She knew she wouldn't just settle with an assumption, regardless which one.

"Like if I got arrested or have someone tailing me?" he suggested, and she didn't have to think long before answering. If he offered her an easy way out she wouldn't turn it down.

"Yes."

She could hear him snort in disappointment and swallowed, glad he didn't ask any further. Cause she wasn't sure if that would be the only reason.

Silence fell as he seemed to lose himself in his own thoughts.

"Was that what you wanted to know?" she asked after a while, remembering the impression she had picked up earlier.

"What if I really miss my plane?" he explained, sounding a bit hesitant but not for long. He could get annoyed just as easily as she did, but just like her he was also ready to drop the mood any moment and get over it. He wasn't the sulking type. "Or what if I notice that I'm really being tailed? I couldn't even warn you."

She knew he had a point and worst of all she knew he really meant it. He would want to warn her.

"Are you asking for my number?" she sneered.

"A number, an email address, anything."

She needed time to think about it. It was a risk but she also understood why he was asking. Why he had demanded to pick a location for their next meeting. He wanted some sort of control.

"I just want to be able to contact you. Is that too much to ask?"

_No. _Control was what she wanted. What she needed. He just wanted to feel like he was actually a part of this.


	22. Part 18

_Three weeks later…

* * *

_

**d2**: **+ 2 years, 9 months**

**d3**:** − 3 months**

**

* * *

**

Part XVIII: Choices

* * *

Nina hung the phone up and sighed in frustration. Another job that wouldn't get her any further. Still, she had accepted. Anything else was unthinkable. She had to be patient a little longer, but she would get her shot. Her chance to leave everything behind for good. She had to admit she wasn't sure what life would be like then, but it would be different. And that was all that mattered. It was what she really wanted.

She had been thinking about it for a while, and she couldn't even tell when exactly she had made up her mind, but she definitely had now. There were certain things she knew she would miss. The thrill, the adrenaline, the danger. A long time ago, it had sickened her that she needed it, but she had learned to accept it. And she had lived good with it. A part of her could go on like this, live in a world of moves and countermoves, of foreseeing and adjusting, planning and carrying out, where trust was almost nonexistent and having something up your sleeve the only valid life insurance. But once she had realized there was an alternative and started to consider it, she had liked the idea more and more. Up to the point where she had started making plans. Plans that didn't include anything from her current life.

_Tuesday_, her mind suddenly trailed off. She would meet Nick on Tuesday.

Sunday she would leave him again, depending on what day the deal was going down. Her employer would let her know soon enough. And although this job was not the one she was waiting and preparing for, she suddenly became aware that it could very well be the last time she saw Nick. Something could come up basically any day and there would be no time then for a last reunion or a goodbye. Not that she needed that.

_Maybe you should end it now. Before things come in a rush. _Maybe it would be best to let this be the last time. _It would be better for him too. _And she didn't have to tell him. She could avoid another debate. All she had to do was not getting in contact anymore. She had given him a phone number, yes, and maybe he would even use it at some point, when he didn't hear from her anymore, but she didn't have to answer. It was a non-traceable cell. She could lose it. _And maybe he won't even try to contact you. _Maybe he would realize it was the best thing that could happen to him.

She wondered if he would see it that way. _A part of him will. _The part that couldn't find peace sleeping next to her. The part that didn't wonder what would happen if he didn't show up but why he did show up in the first place. That part would be grateful.

Nick. There was still something about him she didn't understand. Every time she thought she had him figured out. Every time she thought she got it. What did he see in her? Besides the obvious. Usually she knew what men saw in her or what they thought they saw.

Jack had seen a safe haven. A redemptive retreat from his marriage, from a wife who had lost patience, who was tired of him not sharing a big part of his life with her. A wife who couldn't understand and who, Jack had been sure, wouldn't be able to love him anymore if she ever found out about that hidden side of him. Nina had been the much needed confidant. A substitute where his wife was inadequate, a substitute during the separation. She had never deluded herself that she could be more. But now she wondered what would have happened if Teri had survived that day. If she had had that baby, if Jack had become a father again. Would he have been able to keep his act together? To fix his marriage, to be a loving family father _and _a federal agent? She knew he had been honest about wanting to try, but in the end, she was sure, he would have been forced to choose between the two. He couldn't have had both. And she wondered what he would have chosen. But now she would never know. He would never know. Besides taking Teri from him, and their unborn child, she had even taken that decision from him, the chance to find out, to succeed or to fail, to devise his own future. It wasn't like she didn't know what she had done to him.

And Tony, Tony hadn't been aware of it, but he had first of all seen himself. As the knight in shining armor, rescuing the damsel in distress. Defending her against rumors and office gossip, protecting her from getting hurt, pitying her for the way Jack had treated her. No, that wasn't fair. Tony had also seen the strong, independent side of her. The competent, hardworking woman, standing up for herself and making it on her own in a man's world. But he had liked the idea of protecting her, of lending her a shoulder to lean on. He had looked for the softness underneath the hard shell and she had delivered.

Nick sometimes reminded her of Tony. Just a little bit but they were both genuinely good guys who - despite their work and their environment, despite everything they had seen - had somehow managed to keep their innocence or at least a part of it. She had accused Nick of being naïve, but later on she had understood that it was this naivety and innocence that she had liked about Tony. And that she liked about Nick now.

_I would understand it if you didn't like me_, Nick's words suddenly rang out in her mind, followed by her own, mocking reply. _Like you? What is this - sixth grade? _

The problem was she did like being with him. He was good for her in some way, and maybe she would even miss him.

¤¤¤

Nick sat his name under the evaluation and put the graded paper to the stack of others that had to be send back to their authors. He opened the next file and was about to get started when his stomach reminded him that it was probably time for a lunch break. He glanced at his wristwatch and decided his stomach was right.

Getting up from his desk, he stretched his shoulders and rolled his head first to the right and then to the left side. He had been sitting correcting papers all morning and only now he noticed how stiff he felt. He should go for a walk or something.

Too lazy to cook, he took a pizza carton out of the freezer, ripped it open, and put its content into the microwave. Getting a beer from the fridge, he stood leaning against the kitchen counter. He was actually ahead of his time schedule and if everything went well he would finish the last paper long before Tuesday.

_Tuesday, the 7th, 8.55, Gate 14._ He would arrive about 17 hours later. He was looking forward to it.

He pushed himself off the counter and took a few steps, letting his gaze wander around his apartment. It was almost ironic: for the first time in years, he had a feeling that he had regained some control over his life, that things were working out for him. And that despite the fact that all his planning depended on someone else's schedule. That the only control he had was whether he got on a plane or not. And even that didn't really feel like much of a choice.

But things were good. He was good. He had a job again, one that he actually liked, and one that allowed him to do all those little trips without anyone asking or even noticing his absence.

About three months ago, he had gotten a phone call from one of the country's most distinguished distance learning institutes. One of the departments needed to fill the position of a lecturer and that as soon as possible. Since he had never applied for any position, Nick had wondered how he had made it on the list of potential candidates and gotten the standard answer that the board of the faculty had come across his work and been impressed. But Nick couldn't shake the feeling that Burton had something to do with it. He had called him up later that day and asked but Burton had denied any involvement on his part.

_Listen, Nick, I still think you're wasting your talent and that's a shame. _But after all the times he had let him down, it would be insane to recommend him for yet another job now, wouldn't it? _Of course, my mistake_, Nick had repliedbut been even more convinced. It had been Burton. Not willing to give up on him, the old man had pulled some strings, maybe just mentioned his name to a friend, aware of the weight his word carried.

_Well, thank you anyway, Burton_, he had said,_ I appreciate everything you did for me over the years,_ accepting the other one didn't want any strings to be attached to this. _Sure_, Burton had replied curtly before hanging up. _Good luck with whatever you decide, Nick. _

He had accepted the offer and the courses he held were all fully internet based. Most of the time, it didn't matter where he was as long as he was online when he was supposed to be. It was perfect.

_Yeah, for now_, a voice in the back of his head dampened his enthusiasm. _For as long as this will last. _

He took a sip from his beer and slumped onto the couch. One day he had to come to his senses. Whatever it was that he had with Nina, it couldn't go on forever. They would have to end it. _Or put it to another level. _

He jerked up off the couch, startled, scared by the unexpected thought. A forbidden thought. An unthinkable thought. _There is no other level! _There couldn't be one. It was impossible, not even an option to consider, not even for a second.

He took a few steps towards the window, catching his own vague reflection in the pane.

Hadn't he already passed the point of no return? Everything that had happened – none of it could be undone, none of it forgotten or explained away. Just like the fact that a part of him felt good about it. Enjoyed their arrangement, enjoyed the time spent with her, despite the inner conflict he was struggling with.

_You're going to have to pick a side, my friend_, he told his reflection. _Either you want to play with the bad kids or you should stay home. _He had to decide. Either he could live with the fact that a part of him needed the thrill of being with her, of doing something that was wrong, that it felt right, that she felt right – or he had to end it. Accept that the rest of him was stronger, that his conscience didn't allow for any more irresponsible and frankly insane acting. He had to make a decision. He just didn't know how.

The microwave let out a loud beep behind him, announcing his food was done, and he turned around, heaving a sigh of relief. _Saved by the bell... _


	23. Part 19 I

_One week later…

* * *

_

**d2**:** + 2 years, 9 months**

**d3**:** − 3 months**

**

* * *

**

Part XIX: All there is

* * *

"I'm only gonna ask you one more time," Nick heard the voice through the haze of pain the last blow had caused. "What are you doing here?"

_Told you this was a stupid idea_, another voice was mocking him, and it took him a moment to realize this one was inside his head.

"I told you," he tried to say, croaking, having trouble to breathe. Some of his ribs had to be broken. "I'm just –"

"Out for a walk," he got cut off. "Sure." The guy let out a guffaw and darted his companion a meaningful look. "You know what we do with guys who are out for a walk where they shouldn't be?"

_I have a vague idea_, Nick thought when he saw the knife flashing in the guy's hand. And more than ever before in his life, he wished he could turn back time. Just a few hours. Or thinking about it again – maybe an entire day.

He had eavesdropped on Nina's phone call the night before. Not on purpose, or at least not initially, but what he had heard had been enough to make him suspicious.

She hadn't noticed him walking in and continued her conversation. And although he had only heard the brief remarks on her part it had been enough to keep him from making himself noticed. Something about a change of plans she didn't like, money, and a location not far from where she was at the moment. Yes, she would pick it up, no problem. And he had wondered what 'it' was. When she had asked about backup, he had carefully moved backwards and managed to get out of the room again before she had finished the call.

_Backup? What the hell does she need backup for? _It didn't make sense unless… _Unless she's back in business again_, the thought had flashed his mind. She had told him that she was working as an interpreter and just like him handling most of her work from her computer at home. But interpreters usually didn't need backup.

His first instinct had been to confront her, but then he hadn't - thinking, knowing she would lie to him anyway. Instead he had waited until the next day, their departure day, and pretended to leave a few hours before her in the afternoon. Then he had rented a car and waited, and when she had left he had followed her.

Flashbacks to Tunisia but this time it had been easier. More cars in the city and on the highways, and about an hour later he had watched her getting together with three grim-looking guys in front of a motorway restaurant. One of them had handed a briefcase to her and Nina had taken a moment to inspect the content before all four of them had continued their little road trip. They had reached their destination when it had been just about to get dark - somewhere in the middle of nowhere, on the edge of a glade, in a forest or national park.

Nick had been careful not to be discovered, leaving the car in a dirt road and cautiously sneaking up on the little group, and when they had simply seemed to wait so had he.

A while later another car had arrived, three more men showed up, one of them carrying a briefcase as well, and he and a second man had started walking towards the middle of the glade where they had soon been met by Nina and one of her chaperons. Hidden in a safe distance, Nick hadn't been able to hear what was being said when the four of them met, so he had tried to move around the private party and approach them from a different direction where the tree line was closer and denser. But he hadn't even made it half the way. Just when he had been out of sight and earshot, a sudden pain had seared him from top to bottom and then everything had gone black.

He had been out for a few moments, how long exactly he didn't know. But coming to again he had understood that he had been knocked out, and opening his eyes he had also realized who had whacked him over the head. It was the rest of Nina's team, the two guys who had been waiting by the car when the second party had arrived. After that Nick hadn't paid attention to them anymore. Obviously a mistake. But it had been too late for regrets.

"Good morning, there," one of them had sneered, grabbing him firmly by the hair and pulling him up onto his knees. "Anything we can help you with?"

Feeling the second guy behind him Nick hadn't even tried to offer any resistance, and the guy had quickly cut to the point and asked him why he was there and repeatedly who he was with. Nick had considered telling the truth but something had warned him that it might not be a good idea. Not as long as he didn't understand what was going on. Instead he had tried to explain that he was just out for a walk, just an innocent stroller. But he hadn't even been able to finish the sentence before a fist had landed in his face and then in his stomach, sending him to the dirty ground from where he had been pulled up again after a few seconds.

That procedure had repeated itself a few times, the blows becoming more painful and more specific each time, until the guy in front of him had gotten his knife out which he was waving around now, on a level with Nick's eyes.

"You know what we do with guys who are out for a walk where they shouldn't be?"

And suddenly, Nick realized that they weren't just out to beat him up. They would kill him. Right here, right now, without batting an eyelid. And that was enough to change his mind and tell them he was here with Nina.

But he didn't get to say anything anymore.

"Later," the second guy stepped in, stopping his knife-swinging companion, and Nick felt himself being pulled to his feet. "Make sure he keeps quiet and then let's go."

Another punch hit him, and the fist connecting with his cheek and jawbone brought him close to passing out again. And while his brain was still trying to decide whether to lose consciousness or not, he felt rough hands grabbing him by his arms and shoulders and dragging him away.

¤¤¤

Feeling herself relax a little, Nina watched the car taking off into the night. She was glad the deal had been plain sailing.

Her employer had contacted her the night before, telling her that there had been a change of plans and that she would have to meet the buyer one day earlier. Knowing that she had been in the area already he hadn't seen a problem, and she hadn't made it one, letting him assume though that she was there for another job. He knew that she wasn't working for him exclusively and it was fine by him as long as she didn't get confused about her priorities. They both knew she was smart enough not to.

However, she hadn't been happy about her time schedule and her arrangements being upset. Besides the fact that it had given her almost no time to check out the location before the deal, she was forced to rely on a backup team she had never worked with before. Now she was glad everything had gone off without any complications. The Russians had the software and the money had been transferred to one of her employer's accounts.

She waited until the rear lights had disappeared between the trees and turned around, signaling to Dimitri that they were leaving.

"Where are the others?" he murmured when they reached the car, but a second later they saw them coming through the woods, dragging something between them.

_Someone_, she corrected herself, recognizing the shape of a human body.

"Look what we found," one of them exclaimed when they were just a few meters away. "Caught him sneaking around, spying on us."

She frowned, quickly scanning their surroundings. If someone had been spying on them, it was rather unlikely that he was alone.

They stopped and let the man drop onto his knees, holding him up though with a firm grip around his shoulders.

"I bet he's a cop," the other guy spat, grabbing the halfway unconscious man by the chin and jerking his head up, offering a look into his face.

She did her best to hide the shock when she recognized him but didn't manage completely.

"You know him?" Dimitri asked, standing to her right, just a few feet away. And it took her about two seconds to evaluate her options and maybe two more to make her decision.

There wasn't really a choice to make though, considering what was at stake. No one cared about who she was sleeping with as long as it didn't interfere with her work. But her employer would hardly show understanding when he found out that she was being followed and the assignments he gave her compromised by a former federal agent who was sneaking around behind her back and worst of all getting caught while doing so. It was a risk and a security breach he wouldn't tolerate. Just like he wouldn't tolerate that she had allowed for this to happen.

"Yes," she confirmed coldly, staring down at Nick who seemed to come around now, his dulled, clouded eyes trying to find a focus.

_That's what happens when you get a private life_, she thought, knowing what she had to do.

"He's a fed," she explained, and reached a hand out to Dimitri who understood and got his gun out.

She noticed one of the other guys smirking while both held Nick into position, each moving a bit away from him but still maintaining the grip around his shoulders. Nick himself still seemed to struggle with consciousness, but finally his eyes locked with hers and lit up with recognition, just when Dimitri placed his gun into the palm of her hand.

She closed her fingers around it and darted a quick glance at the shiny weapon before looking up again. Nick's gaze was flickering back and forth between her hand and her face, fear and plain shock in his eyes when he grasped the scenario.

She saw his lips moving, and although no sound came over them she knew he had meant to say her name. And she was surprised how much the pained expression in his face affected her. How uncomfortable it made her to see him like this. There was blood dripping down from one of his eyebrows, his lip was split, and the skin under his left eye was already starting to change color. A bit more blood on his shirt, but that wasn't even it. She had seen people looking much worse. Even people she had once cared about. No, it was the look in his eyes that… And she had to focus not to let it show.

_You shouldn't have followed me, then none of this would have been necessary_, she thought, concentrating on her anger. It was much easier to handle.

She cocked the gun. _No mistakes now._ She had to be quick. _Fifteen degrees left, fifteen degrees right. _It was simple. _One step, ninety degrees right._

¤¤¤

Nick blinked as a part of his brain was still trying to convince the other parts to shut down and lose consciousness. And seeing Nina pointing the gun at him made it seem a much nicer alternative to just close his eyes and pass out before she would...

His mind was working slowly and still busy processing the situation when two quick shots rang out and he suddenly hit the ground. And again it took a moment before he understood what had happened.

_They're dead_, he realized, slowly lifting his head up and glancing at the two bodies lying to either side of him. She hadn't shot him – she had shot them.

He looked up and saw she had turned around and was already aiming at the last man, who seemed just as perplexed and surprised as Nick himself. But for some reason she took the time to pull a second gun out of her pocket and point it at him as well.

"What -" the guy stammered and tried to back away but another series of quick shots from the second gun cut him off.

Nick watched him being hit in the chest twice, getting thrown back by the impact of the bullets, and falling to the ground. Strangely numb, he kept his eyes riveted on the motionless body a little longer before letting his gaze return to Nina.

She was staring at the dead guy as well, and her expression calm she seemed unmoved by the fact that she had just taken three lives. As if it was nothing or something she had done a hundred times before.

_She has! _Well, not a hundred times, but she had done this before. She had turned on people and she had killed. And although he had always been aware of it, never forgotten that side of her for longer than a few moments, it hit him absolutely unprepared now. Knowing what she was capable of and witnessing her doing it – there was a whole world between those two.

He watched her pulling a face, looking annoyed for a moment before moving again. Wiping one of the guns clean off her own fingerprints, she approached the guy she had killed last, kneeled down, and placed the weapon in his hand. Getting up to her feet again quickly, she was already busy cleaning the second gun as she came striding towards Nick without even looking at him.

He became aware again of the pain in his chest and side and rolled onto his back, groaning at the exertion. He felt like he had been hit by a truck. An angry and severely pissed off truck. In the corner of his eyes, he noticed her placing the second gun in the hand of one of his capturers before searching him and taking possession of his own gun in return. _No wonder she has a different gun every time we meet_, a silly thought flashed his mind while he watched her sliding it into her waistband before finally turning to him.

"Get up," she said gruffly, sounding what…tired? Angry? Hell, he was angry too! Angry that he was so shocked about this, angry that it got to him like that. What the hell had he been thinking? That everything he knew about her past had just been exaggerations? That everything she had told him herself had been a bedtime story? He shook his head inwardly. _I'm a…_ He didn't even know what to call himself anymore.

She kneeled down beside him and reached out to support him when he tried to get up, but he pushed her away. He didn't need her help. He didn't want her to touch him. _How could I ever let her touch me? How could I… _

He groaned with pain when his ribcage reminded him not to move too quickly, and standing upright again he suddenly felt dizzy. He tumbled and would have fallen if Nina hadn't caught him.

"How did you get here?" she asked and he told her, motioning with his head towards the dirt road where his rental car was parked. "Let's go," she ordered, and once more he tried to push her away, but the movement only caused new pain and he gave up, letting her drag him towards the car where she maneuvered him into the passenger seat.

Tilting his head back against the headrest, he closed his eyes for a moment but all he saw were the dead faces he had stared into just a minute ago.

She got into the car as well and held out a hand, and he reached into his pockets, tossing the keys to her. A second later they were driving off into the night.

He glared at her. _How could I be so stupid? _To think that she had changed? That a part of her regretted what she had done? That she just couldn't admit it because…

_Bullshit! She hasn't changed one bit. It was all wishful thinking. _His wishful thinking. And the only reason why she had never said that she regretted anything was simply that she didn't have any regrets! She hadn't even lied. Just let him believe what he had been so eager to believe.

_Fool!_

They were out of the woods now and on an open road, and he kept glaring at her while she kept scowling straight ahead. The silence was loaded and she finally broke it, without taking her eyes off the road.

"Just say it," she dared him coldly.

¤¤¤

She didn't have to turn her head to know the look on his face. She had seen it before. Just not on him. And she couldn't deny that it felt wrong. If she had ever cared how anyone looked at her, what they thought of her, really cared, not just because she had to in order to maintain her cover - he was the last one she wanted to despise her.

_Let's not get dramatic_, she mocked herself. _Just get it over with. _

"Just say it," she demanded and could feel Nick's glare intensifying for a moment.

"I don't have anything to say to you," he replied then, his voice heavy with contempt but also disappointment. And for a second, she thought there was even sadness. But she wasn't sure.

"Fine," she retorted, knowing he would come around eventually. He was going to talk soon enough and probably more than she would like him to.

She thought of the cell phone in her pocket. She would have to make the call soon. And she better came up with a good explanation as to why her entire team was dead.

For local authorities it would look like they had shot each other. Three foreigners whose identification would most likely broach some follow-up questions but in the end none of those would be answered. The investigation would be closed without any result other than that all three men had died in a shootout. The specifics about what had happened and why would remain a matter of speculation. Only her employer wouldn't leave it at that. He would want a reason, a motive, an explanation. She hadn't decided yet what to tell him, only that it wouldn't be the truth. Of course not the truth.

"It was never about Jack, was it?" Nick suddenly remarked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She frowned.

"You never came to the States to get rid off Jack," he explained, seeming to have put the pieces together. "Neither to see me. It was a job." There was still anger and contempt in his voice, but he seemed to have calmed down a little and his disappointment seemed to weigh heavier now. "It was always a fucking job."

For the first time since she had gotten into the car she darted a quick glance at him, and seeing the consternation in his face, the expression in his eyes as he stared through the front shield, for some reason it made her feel… _Guilty. _And turning back to the steering wheel, she swallowed.

"How many?" he asked after a while.

_How many? How many what? Jobs? _

How many people did you kill since…" he tried to clarify but couldn't complete the sentence.

"Since when? Since I got pardoned? Or since I met you?" she sneered but he didn't react. "I didn't count," she stated curtly and could feel he wanted to protest but then seemed to change his mind.

"You know, the sad thing is, I actually believe you."

She felt a lump in her throat, and struggled with herself for a moment before finally just rolling her eyes.

_You shouldn't_, she thought but remained silent. She knew exactly how many, and actually the number wasn't that large. Most of the time everything went according to plan, without set ups, without shootouts. Most of the time nothing happened and tonight had been something entirely different anyway. But it didn't matter. No point in trying to explain that to him.

"All this time," Nick shook his head, "and I had no idea. It feels stupid to even mention that you've been lying to me, but…I really thought…I don't know what I thought." He sounded agonized. "Just the thought that we…and all the while you were out there, doing exactly what…" Again he couldn't finish his sentence, and she had enough.

"Doing exactly what I've always done?" she snapped, trying to stay calm though. "What can I say – it's what I do best."

She could practically hear him clenching his teeth.

"Yeah, I'm sure the guys back there learned that lesson," he sneered, and she couldn't stop herself from retorting.

"They would still be alive if you hadn't showed up."

There was a deadly silence as he seemed to progress her words.

"Stop the car," he suddenly demanded but she just smirked, not taking her eyes off the road.

"Stop the fucking car," he yelled, and suddenly his hand was on the steering wheel, tearing at it with an iron grip, and before she could react the car had left the road and was plowing off into a field. She hit the brakes and the abrupt stop threw them both forward and then back again, pressing them into their seats.

She stared at him - angry, incredulous, catching her breath.

"What the hell are you doing?"

But slumped back into his seat, holding his side, his features contorted in pain, he didn't reply. If he had an explanation, he didn't seem willing to share it with her.

¤¤¤

Breathing hurt, and he was sure by now that at least one of his rips was broken but he was far from caring.

_They would still be alive if you hadn't showed up. _

The words kept echoing in his mind, their meaning, their implications sinking in more and more, and his initial reaction fading further and further away.

_Don't dare blaming this on me_, he had thought, anger flaming up inside him, but now he just felt like throwing up.

She was right. It sickened him to the core but she was right. Swallowing down the sour taste in his mouth, he realized she had shot them to save his life. It had been him or them. He couldn't see why she hadn't just told them that she knew him, that he wasn't a fed, that he was no threat, but he knew her well enough to understand that there had to be a logical, a rational explanation to it. There always was.

God, he hated himself for doing this again. For understanding how her mind worked, for seeing things from her perspective, explaining them, justifying them.

_Justifying? _Hardly!

"I guess I should be flattered that you chose me over them. Is my life worth three others?"

He heard her sigh next to him but she didn't say anything and they sat in silence for a long moment. He wasn't even sure where he was in his thoughts, just that he was lost.

"I got back in before we met," her voice suddenly reached through to him, calm but not as unmoved as usually. "Before Tunisia. And yes, when you showed up at the hotel, that day Jared and Travis stopped by, I was there for a job. Pretty much every time we meet I have something to take care of somewhere in the area, either before or afterwards. I killed four people since I got pardoned and watched a couple more being killed. I prefer for things to run smoothly, but sometimes they get ugly. And when that happens, there's never really a choice."

He turned his head to face her but she wasn't looking at him, peering out into the darkness, her hands resting on the lower part of the steering wheel.

"Sure, just keep telling yourself that," he stated bitterly. "But we both know you had at least one choice. After your pardon, you had…maybe not all the chances in the world, but…you were out and you could have stayed out."

"The hell I could," she replied just as bitter, meeting his eyes with that certain expression on her face again. "You don't get it, do you? You don't just quit. It's not like one of your part-time jobs. You don't get out, you don't turn your back on them. I know way too much to be able to just walk away." She shrugged her shoulders, stating a simple fact. "They'd kill me."

"If you know too much," he started to object, "then why –"

"Because I'm no threat as long as I'm playing by the rules," she cut him short, her voice low, a thin smile playing on her face. "I get my hands dirty but I get something in return."

"Money." _It's all about the fucking money._

"Sure," she sneered mildly, causing him to think again.

"Protection," he complemented, starting to understand. "From Jack?" He caught her casting her eyes down for a second before answering.

"From Jack, from former business partners, from people I know and people I don't know, from those holding a grudge because I turned on them and those fearing I might turn again. Take your pick."

"Can't blame them," he countered coldly, reminding himself not to be so fucking understanding.

"No," she agreed unmoved, glancing around to check their surroundings. "But if I get out, I'm on my own. Now, how long do you think I could sit around in Africa, trying to find a job that just pays enough to have an alarm system installed? How long do you think it would take certain people to find me if I didn't have the money and the connections to cover my tracks? And how long would it take before some people would get nervous that I might ask Uncle Sam to pay for my expenses in return for some information?"

He couldn't deny that it sounded convincing. She seemed to have a point.

"As long as I'm in," she shrugged, "it's safe to say I have an interest to keep my side of the deal, and I'm useful. Once I'm out, I'm nothing but a risk."

He stared at her, studying her expression for a moment before turning away and looking out the window. He shouldn't even be listening. Of course she had her reasons, and from her point of view they all made sense. _But it's no excuse! _Nothing could ever excuse what she had done. _What she's still doing for Christ's sake_. All the while they had…

He shook his head.

"So, what is it you're saying? No one ever retires?"

"Not in my position."

He nodded sarcastically. "I can see why you threw away your old life for this one."

¤¤¤

She smirked slightly. She couldn't. Sometimes she really couldn't anymore.

_Sure, you do. The only thing you can't see is what your life would have been like if you hadn't thrown it out. _

She sighed and turned her head away, not comfortable with Nick watching her.

"I meant what I said," she heard herself saying, "I'm simply doing what I'm best at." And a part of her tried to stop her from talking, knowing what she was about to reveal. But another, much bigger part had already decided. It didn't really matter anymore anyway, did it?

She met Nick's incredulous, questioning eyes.

"After they deported me to Africa, I had a lot of time to think. And sometimes I wonder what I would have done, without Jack, without…if I really had been free to decide." She saw the skepticism in his eyes but continued. "But the truth is, I can't see myself making any other decision than the one I made. Not then and not all those years ago."

She had let her gaze trail off while talking but looked up again now and saw him staring at her with a pained expression. As if he couldn't believe what he had just heard. And turning away from her, holding his breath, he looked as if he was going to throw up.

She could imagine what he was thinking.

_To think that I ever thought anything else. That I ever touched you._

She sighed and turned her head as well. _Dèja-vu. _

"All those times you tried to convince me that this wasn't going to work," he said after a while, his voice low and weak, "you should just have told me this and I would have been gone in a second. But I guess it's my own fault. You never said you regret, you never said you didn't like things how they are. I just saw what I wanted to see."

"I don't like things how they are," she objected although something told her not to. Maybe it was best to just leave things the way they were. At least it would be a clean cut. They could both walk away.

But for some reason, she didn't want him to think the worst of her. Not more than he should.

"You just said –" he started but she cut him off.

"I said I can't imagine choosing a different way back then." She hesitated, but continued then in a hushed voice, the sudden need to explain herself to him again being stronger than her reason. "I do now."

She felt him spin around and glare at her but kept staring straight ahead.

"You lost me," he shrugged after a moment, his glare turning a bit more into a frown, still far from sympathetic though. "What do you mean?"

Still avoiding to look at him, her eyes wandering from the windshield down to her hands and back, she sighed and swallowed. She wanted to tell him and at the same time she didn't, had the words ready on her lips but was yet fumbling for them. Why was it this hard?

"I want to get out."

"Thought you can't," he countered immediately.

"Not just like that, no."

"Then what?"

She darted him a quick side glance, realizing he always did this when he was angry. Setting the pace, trying to pressure her - but she caught herself thinking he had all right to be angry.

_What about me? If he hadn't showed up tonight… _But she didn't even buy it herself.

"Planning on selling anyone out again?" he spat, and she smiled bitterly. _If it was that simple…_

"Wouldn't help me this time."

"Yeah, I guess it would be hard to get anybody trusting you again anyway."

"There are only two ways to get out," she ignored his remark. "Either you die, or you disappear for good."

"Well, we know dying is out of the question," he mocked.

"Yeah," she sighed, tired of his attitude, tired of all of it.


	24. Part 19 II

¤¤¤

He heard her sigh, saw her staring ahead for a moment before she put her hands around the keys and turned them in the ignition. The car started, and a moment later they moved over the field, slowly making their way back onto the road. He leaned his head against the window and peered outside.

How had things gotten so fucked up? When had he lost it?

_Honestly? Probably the first time you've seen her_, a mocking voice sneered in his head.But he wasn't sure if that was true. _Rather when I first slept with her. _But it felt just as inadequate as an explanation.

Maybe when he had started to work at Division. From that point on things had only gotten worse. _Like life was all joy and happiness before_, the same voice smirked again. Like his life hadn't always been a big mess.

_Where did it go wrong? _he wondered. He remembered the happy days of his childhood, being jaunty and light-hearted. So there had been something else once. Things had been simple. Until…what? Until his parents had died? No, it had become more complicated long time before that. When he had helped dragging a dead body up a stairway and throwing her down? When he had gotten blood on his hands?

_You probably were a good and ambitious student before_, he suddenly remembered Nina's words from when she had taken her turn in analyzing him. _I'd say you were a very serious kid, didn't have too many friends your own age, probably got along with adults much better._ She had been right. Of course, she had been right. Phil had not only been his best friend, he had even been his only friend. That didn't make their friendship worth less but… Yes, he had been a serious kid. Too serious for his age and it hadn't gotten better over the years. He had always felt too mature for his age, too grown up. Helping Phil covering up for the murder of his mum, losing his parents so early – it hadn't exactly antagonized that trend.

_So, what it all comes down to is that things got fucked up when I started to think. _

He hesitated, but the more he thought about it the more appealing the conclusion became. It was the pattern of his life, wasn't it? He had done alright at Division until he had started thinking too much, questioning what he was doing, questioning how he really felt about it. He had been teaching until he had started thinking about his past again and about how he could teach anything to those young, ambitious students. And he wouldn't be where he was now if he had just stopped thinking about her. At any given point really – after the first interrogation, after Tunisia, after the hotel… None of it would even have happened if he hadn't tried to understand her. If he had stuck to his own problems, his own messed up head. In the end, he had only himself to blame.

He glanced at her. Driving in silence, her eyes were empty, her face a blank mask. _That's all there is_, he tried to tell himself. _No feelings underneath, nothing to save, nothing to fix. _It would be so much easier if he could believe that.

_Nothing to love_, a thought flashed his mind, startling him, scaring him. And he made himself remember what she had done, just a few minutes ago, at the edge of that glade. Without as much as blinking, without batting an eyelid. Shouldn't that cure him from any absurd thought?

_Yes, it should. _But looking at her only made him having even more uninvited thoughts. Thoughts he couldn't stop from coming. Because he knew there was something underneath that mask. He just wasn't sure anymore if he wanted to know.

"If I hadn't showed up tonight," he finally broke the silence after a long while and noticed the quick glance she darted him. "If I hadn't showed up tonight - what would have happened?"

"Nothing," she shrugged. "Everybody would be on their way home now."

He nodded.

"And then? What about tomorrow? What about next week, next month? Is it just going to go on like that?"

"Probably," she stated with an indifferent voice, but he knew she wasn't that unmoved. Not with everything she had told him.

"You said you want to get out. So what are you waiting for?"

¤¤¤

Of course, he couldn't just let it go. He had to ask, had to know. And she couldn't keep herself from thinking that he deserved to know.

"I can't. Not yet."

"Why?"

"I have to wait for the right moment," she explained vaguely, but he didn't accept that either.

"And when would that be?"

She hesitated, wondering herself if she wasn't just fooling herself. Would that moment really ever come?

_Yes, it will. _

But was she really willing to take that step? Maybe her life wasn't exactly fulfilling, but it was everything she had. If she gave that up – what was she supposed to do? Just sit around somewhere on a tropic island? Watching the tides change, the seasons pass?

_Let's cross that bridge when we come to it. _

"You were right," she explained. "It's all about the money. I need one last job. A big one."

"So that you can make enough to disappear for good?"

"Steal enough. Yes," she confirmed, part of her shaking her head inwardly. Why was she telling him?

_Calm down. It's not like he's going to tell anyone. _She knew that. But still… It wasn't like her to trust anyone with that kind of information. She had never shared more than she absolutely had to and she couldn't see why she had to start breaking that habit now.

"Were you going to tell me?" he asked, and she could hear how he made an effort to make it sound indifferent, casual, as if he didn't really care. "Were you going to tell me what you're planning?" he repeated when she didn't answer.

"What do you think?" she countered and he finally fell silent.

She stole another glance at him, suddenly becoming aware again of the shape he was in.

"Where's your stuff?"

"In a locker at the airport," he muttered hesitant.

"Well, you can't show up there like this." They were not in the United States but even European Airport Security would wonder about a passenger looking all beat up and bruised and ask a whole lot of questions. "We need to find a motel or some place to get you cleaned up." _And get this cleared up. _She couldn't just drop him off like that.

_Why not? What do you want to do instead? Sit and hold his hand? _

This was why she would never have told him. A simple goodbye without him having any idea it was the last one – it would have been so much easier. Now things were all complicated again and the last illusion of ease had vanished.

_It's still not complicated. Make sure he's alright, say your goodbyes, leave. How much less complicated could it be? _

They drove in silence for a long time, until she finally spotted a motorway motel and pulled onto the parking lot. It wasn't hard to get a room, no questions asked, no problems with the check-in, and a few minutes later she maneuvered Nick inside without anyone noticing his condition.

He still hadn't said a word and the look on his face made it clear that he didn't want any help from her. So she just watched him getting out of the car, still holding his side, grimacing against the pain, and let him have it his way. If it made him feel better…

Once inside, he slumped down onto the bed, shifting between lying and sitting to find a comfortable position while she locked the door and checked the room. Checked the window, the visual range she had on what was going on outside, discerning dead angles and possible covers. It was more than unlikely that anyone would find them here, even look for them, but she checked anyway. At least it gave her something to focus on.

Finally turning around again, though, she just stood there, insecure what to do next. She hadn't planned for this, and for once, she didn't know what to do.

¤¤¤

Standing by the window, looking at him, she seemed indecisive about how to deal with the situation. And he realized he hadn't seen her like that before. He had seen her hesitate or weighing her options but never like this. Almost a bit nervous, almost a bit at a loss.

Her cell phone rang and he watched her checking the display, noticed the change in her face when she was suddenly focused and composed again. She aborted the call but moved towards the door with the device in her hand.

"I have to make a call," she stated curtly and gave him a quick glance as if expecting some kind of reaction, but he just stared back, keeping his own expression motionless.

She walked out and he sighed, leaning his head back against the pillow. It was probably about the job. She would have to explain to someone what had happened – or rather what she wanted whoever she was working for to think had happened. He wondered what kind of story she would come up with. And what would happen if she wasn't convincing enough.

_They'd kill me_, her words echoed in his head. _I'm no threat as long as I'm playing by the rules. _But he doubted that tonight had been playing by the rules. Killing her own people and lying about it - probably not what was expected of her.

He searched his pockets for his cigarettes and lit one, inhaling deeply before his rips protested, causing him to cough and groan at the pain.

The problem was he believed her. He believed all of it. That she didn't really have a choice now, that she hadn't really had a choice back then in Africa. He had wondered himself how many people were after her, only he had never seriously pursued the question. _How does she protect herself? How does she avoid surprises like the one with Travis and Jared? _If he had, maybe he would have figured it out by himself, done the math. _If they were able to find her there, why shouldn't they find her in Africa, find her permanent residence_. If she still had one there. She could have moved to Alaska for all he knew.

_That's cause you don't know too much, do you?_ the irritating voice inside him mocked again.

No, he had been too busy living in a fantasy world. He couldn't even blame her for not being honest with him. It wasn't like he had pressured her. He had just been stupid enough to assume that she wasn't…that she had somehow changed.

_Right. _What had he been thinking she was doing all day? Translating manuals and articles? With all her knowledge, experience and background, all her credentials? He shook his head. She was right. He could be so naïve…

No, it all made sense and he believed her. It was something else that was hard to take in.

_The truth is, I can't see myself making any other decision than the one I made_.

As if she was fine with it. As if she didn't think there was anything wrong about it. No regrets, no guilt, no conscience.

No, that wasn't true. And it wasn't what she meant. She had just repeated something she had already explained to him before, that night at his apartment, when she had told him about that side in her that needed the adrenaline, the thrill, the kick. That only felt alive when the stakes were high, that knew she was doing something horrible but couldn't feel anything at it. He knew about that part of her. And she hadn't revealed anything new by telling him again tonight. So why was he acting all shocked and surprised now?

The door opened and she was back, her expression not giving anything away but he was sure things had gone well. No need to worry she hadn't been convincing.

She walked into the room, dropping her cell on the table next to the small TV set, and gave him a disapproving look when she noticed the cigarette. He knew she didn't like it and he usually didn't smoke when he was with her.

"I thought you had quit."

"I'll quit smoking when you stop killing people," he retorted, taking a last drag before stubbing out the butt.

She rolled her eyes but didn't reply, taking her jacket off and tossing it over the only chair in the room.

"You should take a shower or at least wash your face," she suggested, looking as if she was already making plans again.

_I want to get out_, her words from earlier suddenly echoed in his mind. Why had she even bothered to tell him?Why had she explained, no, actually defended herself? She never did.

He hesitated.

"Why didn't you tell me you're working again?"

"Because I knew you wouldn't understand," she remarked offhandedly, once again making her way over to the window and peering outside.

Surprised at the unexpected admission, he stared at her back, not sure if this was a good thing or not, or what to make of the fact that a part of him was relieved at her answer. _Because I knew you wouldn't understand… _

"Since when do you care? Since when do you care if anyone understands, or what anyone thinks of you?" _What I think of you._

Turning her head an idea, she stared at him, obviously realizing as well that she had given away more than she had intended to. And once again, he made the rare observation of seeing her insecure, speechless even, apparently, at least for a moment.

¤¤¤

She turned back to the window, smothering a heavy sigh. Whether he had trapped her intentionally or not - she had made a mistake.

"I don't," she tried to save what was left to save. _I don't. _If she did, it meant that she cared about him"If I did, I wouldn't have let things get this far." She glanced over her shoulder, quickly looking him up and down. "And if I cared about you, I wouldn't have let you get in the middle of all this, would I?" she tried to make her case. "I would have insisted that you stay away from me." But the smirk on his face told her he wasn't buying it.

"Maybe someone else would see it that way," he stated, his voice heavy with mockery, "but you're not that noble. You're hardly the unselfish martyr putting your own interests aside for the sake of someone else. You don't believe in self-sacrifice."

Peering out into the darkness, she wished she could object but the problem was that he was right and they both knew it. She really wasn't that noble.

"No, you told me to stay away from you because you were afraid of what would happen to you – not to me. To you. And you only gave in when you realized I'm good for you."

_Good for me? _She wanted to protest. _Where's the good in this?_

"You keep meeting with me because you get something out of it. Something you need, something that's worth the trouble and the risk."

"Yes," she admitted, seeing her chance to gain the upper hand again. "It was your idea to find some distraction in each other and I admit it was a good one." She sneered. "I hope you're not going to blame me now for taking your offer."

He snorted. "A distraction? That's all it was to you, huh?"

"As hard as that must be for your ego – that's exactly what it was. Nothing more."

She heard him move and darted another glance over her shoulder, seeing him getting up from the bed and to his feet, an amused expression on his face.

"You know, if you want to get out, you shouldn't wait too long. You used to lie a lot better than that."

She tried to think of a good response but frankly couldn't come up with any. She didn't know what to say.

"If you were just looking for a good distraction," he continued, moving towards the bathroom door, still pressing one hand onto his side, "you could have picked up some random guy any time. No need to cling to me of all people. And if you really didn't give a damn about me, you wouldn't have shot three of your own men to save my sorry ass. Not that you cared about them but killing them is trouble, and you're avoiding trouble whenever you can." Reaching the bathroom, he leaned against the doorframe for a second, supporting himself before making his last point. "And that's also why you weren't going to tell me. Why you would have played along until that last job would have come up and then just run off and disappeared without ever letting me know why." She turned her back on him again. "It's easier, it's avoiding trouble. Because you do care - and that, that is trouble. At least from your perspective."

She still didn't say anything, focusing on not moving, on not encouraging him even more than she already was by staying so passive.

A few moments later, she heard the bathroom door being slammed shut behind him.

She kept staring into the dark, struggling a little longer but then finally giving up. He was right and she realized she was too tired to make up explanations just to stay in her blissful state of denial. It wasn't that blissful anyway.

_You get something out of it. Something you need, something that's worth the trouble and the risk._

She did. And she used to think that it was just these few hours of forgetting and ignoring, the refuge they created every time they took off from the real world. The way he sometimes looked at her, the way he almost seemed to see something else than everybody else, something else than she saw herself when she looked in the mirror. Never longer than a few moments but she remembered every one of them. It felt good as long as it lasted but hurt even more when it was over. And it always was eventually. And she could see even that in his eyes then: the process of realization, remembrance, awareness, and finally - inevitably - guilt.

If she cared about him, she would have ended it? Spared him the inner struggle? Well, the thought had hit her. But he was right – she didn't believe in self-sacrifice. He had something she needed, and he was a grown-up, old enough to make his own decisions. If he thought he could take it, she wouldn't try to convince him otherwise.

She had thought it was the part where he made her forget that made her come back time after time and that was worth all the trouble and even the pain of the inevitable disillusionment right after. But that was only half the story, only half the truth. Now she realized that she needed that disillusionment just as much. To remind her of what she was, what she had been, and what she didn't want to be anymore. To remind her of what she had to do if she ever wanted to be able to see something different in the mirror again. And he was the only one who could give her that. She could find someone who didn't know, who just saw a façade, a stranger - whatever they wanted to see. But Nick was the only one who knew what he was dealing with, saw who she really was.

She sighed. _And who still sticks around. _Why was that?

¤¤¤

Nick put his hands around the edges of the sink and leaned closer towards the mirror, waiting a few seconds before looking up and meeting his own reflection. He really was in a bad shape.

The blood on his face and shirt had dried by now, the skin around his left eye had started to turn into a dark blue, and just the sight of it all brought the pain back. He tried to take a deep breath and more pain shot through his body, reminding him that his face wasn't the only body part they had worked on. He smothered a groan and straightened up, trying to make it easier on his lungs and airways.

He noticed his hand twitching and then his whole body started shaking while he watched himself turning paler. He could feel his blood pressure rising.

_About time_, he thought sarcastically, knowing it was his brain finally processing what had happened tonight and his body working it out. He could have died.

_No, I could die any given day of my life. _That was not the point. It was not just the theoretical possibility of death he had faced tonight – he had been seconds or a few inches away from dying. If his capturers had decided to finish him off without consulting their boss, if Nina had decided he wasn't more important than her deal going off smoothly, not to mention if he had managed to get them both killed in a stupid car accident.

He let go of the sink and clenched his fists in a weak attempt to gain control over his body, but in vain. Realizing he had to let his body have it its way, he tumbled back and leaned against the shower stall.

This wasn't supposed to happen to him. He should be sitting somewhere behind an oak desk, reading, writing, researching. Analyzing, theorizing, maybe teaching. He wasn't supposed to get involved into terrorist activities, witness whatever sale it was they had just made. The closest he had ever gotten to all that was in the interrogation rooms and offices at Division, and even there just second-hand, just from a safe distance. And there was a reason why he had turned his back on all that. But at least he had been on the right side back then. Hadn't he? Everything he had done had been meant to do good, to stop crimes and attacks, to protect innocent lives, innocent citizens. Maybe he had been too soft for the job but the thing itself had been good, no? Division, intelligence services, the government – that was the right side, wasn't it? The good side.

_Really?_ He stared at his reflection. What side exactly was that? _The side of this country. But is everything that is best for your country automatically good? Is supporting dictators and financing terrorists good as long as it secures resources and destabilizes a political enemy? Are human rights and the rule of law negligible from time to time? Is the definition of good that bendy? Are you?_

It was true - everything he had done at Division he had done to help averting crimes, foiling attacks, to protect innocent Americans. But did that mean he had been on the right side?

_No, it doesn't. _And that was why he had left Division, why he couldn't do his job anymore. _There's no such thing as good and bad. _There were just sides. A lot of them. _And there's probably no such thing as innocence. _He had seen too much to remain in blissful ignorance. And it was also why he couldn't teach anymore. He couldn't talk about what he had seen, but how could he not tell the truth he had found? How could he teach young students but only teach them a limited fragment of the complex world he was supposed to prepare them for? He had tried to keep it simple, to stick to his field. But every now and then he was reminded of the rest, asked to leave his ivory tower. Every time he took off and ran.

He shook his head, again trying to clench his fists and stop the shivering. _Let's not lose perspective here. _Whatever reasons he had for leaving Division and for messing up his life – it didn't change a thing about what had happened tonight. No one had forced him to go after Nina, no one suggested to him to get close to her.

He closed his eyes and let his head drop back against the plastic wall in his back. Who exactly was he making excuses for – for himself or for her? He could philosophize all he wanted but the fact remained that what she had done – and obviously still did – was wrong. He could see her reasons, understand her way of thinking, or put himself in her shoes for a while, but it didn't change a thing. And for once it was really simple: either he could live with it or not. There was no middle ground.

_No, but there's always retreat. _And why shouldn't he pull back? Even if he had been right, even if she cared, if she had some sort of regret and a conscience – it obviously wasn't enough. She couldn't even bring herself to say it, let alone act on it. And even if she wanted to change…

He had tried the best he could, but maybe she was right - maybe she couldn't be fixed. She wasn't willing to let him try to say the least. And he couldn't see any longer what had made him believe he should be the one to do anything about it.

He was so tired and he sank down to sit up against the wall. Why was he putting himself through all this when she so obviously rejected his efforts? Why should he be the one to struggle when she avoided it? He was done here.

_Time to go home._ It wouldn't spare him the struggle with his conscience over what had happened but it would make things easier. And safer. He would just wait a little, sit here and let his body catch up with everything. _With the shock. _He shouldn't be shocked really, should have known better. But what could he say – he really could be shockingly naïve.

He heard the door creaking and felt her standing there but didn't look up. He could imagine the mocking expression on her face and he didn't want to see it right now. Instead he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his breathing, find a steady rhythm, set the pace for himself. _In and out, in and out, in and out…_

He sensed her moving, heard the faucet being turned on and water running but kept his eyes closed. He would tell her. He would tell her and then he would leave. He just needed to gather a bit more strength. _In and out… _

Something wet touched his face and he jerked his eyes open to see her kneeling in front of him. It was a wet towel being run over his forehead, soaking up the cold sweat, almost softly moving on to wipe away the dried blood. Meeting her eyes, he wasn't sure what it was he saw in them. She seemed serious. For once, there was no mockery, no smirking. But it certainly was yet to come. Sitting around on the filthy floor, shaking, shivering – not quite the tough behaviour she was used to.

¤¤¤

He brought his hand up to stop her, to push her away, and she withdrew her own, leaving it to him to keep the cool towel pressed against his forehead. He did and closed his eyes once again and she sank further back, sitting down opposite him with as much space between them as possible in the narrow room.

"Not quite a surprise," he remarked with a shaky voice, looking at her defiantly. "At least one of us shows a normal reaction."

_A human reaction_, she thought. That was what he meant. A normal person wouldn't be that unmoved by what had happened, wouldn't be as indifferent as she was. She had let her gaze trail off but feeling him glare at her, she looked up again as she spoke.

"I knew you would despise me if I'd told you." _I knew there's no way you could handle knowing I'm still active. _

She had to force herself not to avoid his eye but seeing how startled he was didn't make it easier, reminding her of the magnitude of her admission.

"You're right," she stated curtly. _You're right about everything_, she wanted to tell him but couldn't. The words just froze on her lips. She couldn't bring herself to say them. Too strong was the part of her that told her not to make herself that vulnerable. Why exactly? She didn't know anymore. And somewhere, almost secretly, she hoped that he would understand anyway, that he would see it in her eyes if she just kept riveting them on his.

_You're right. I tried not to let it come this far because I knew we might end up here._ _And a part of me still wishes I had never given my consent, never let it happen, never gotten this attached. But I do get something out of it_, she thought sadly._ And I didn't want it to be over. _

He was returning her gaze, his tired eyes staring back at her, but she couldn't read in them, couldn't tell if he understood or not.

"I don't know what you saw in me," she suddenly continued aloud, "but I didn't want you to stop seeing it. Because whatever it is, you're the only one who can see it." She couldn't. "And every time you remember what I am, every time you feel guilty about it," she had to pause, "I do too."

He just stared at her with his mouth open and his breathing still a bit shaky, and although a part of her wanted to know what was going on inside of him, it was probably better not to know. It was hurting enough already.

_Hurting? _It wasn't hurting.

_Not yet maybe, but it will._

He blinked, and she cast her eyes down, letting her gaze wander over everything that wasn't him, swallowing, and feeling every muscle in her tense, aching to get away.

"You should lie down for a moment and get some rest," she suggested, getting up to her feet and making her way to the door. "I can drop you off at the airport later."


	25. Part 20

_Early the next morning…

* * *

_

**d2**: **+ 2 years, 9 months**

**d3**:** − 3 months

* * *

**

**Part XX: If…

* * *

**

Nick glanced at the houses and buildings they were passing, recognizing some of them. If he wasn't mistaken, the airport was only a few minutes away now.

He rubbed his temples, feeling a headache he had woken up with and that seemed determined to stay with him until he either got some painkillers or some serious rest. He had barely slept the night, lying awake for hours with all kinds of thoughts running through his mind. It had already been light outside when he had finally drifted off – only to jolt awake again shortly after, only more disturbed and confused.

He stole a glance at Nina, sitting on the driver's seat, steering the car through the hectic morning traffic. They seemed to have hit rush hour.

_I knew you would despise me if I'd told you. _

He couldn't forget what she had said the night before. He had expected her to mock him for being so weak, to display one of those mocking smiles and maybe give him a last little speech about how she couldn't understand why he was so shocked at finding out she was still active. Instead she had been sincere. He hadn't seen it coming.

_I don't know what you saw in me, but I didn't want you to stop seeing it. Because whatever it is, you're the only one who can see it_.

He still wasn't sure which part was causing his head to hurt more - the question what it actually was that he saw in her that had made him stick around or the silent though sad admission that even she couldn't see it.

What did he see in her? Or as she had pointed out - what had he seen in her before finding out that she had been lying to him all this time? He didn't know. He had thought about it so many times but he still couldn't put it in words, couldn't make it intelligible even to himself.

He had told her that she was the only thing that made him feel alive, that figuring her out and trying to fix her somehow gave a meaning to his life. He had accepted that a while ago but he had still wondered: why this obsession with just her of all people, why that fixation? Why couldn't he go and find someone else to understand and help become a better person, someone who… _Someone who deserves it._

One answer was that he was fascinated by the way her mind worked, the way she quickly evaluated situations and made her moves, always letting her ratio steer. Because no matter how sick or twisted her actions might seem from a moral point of view, from a rational perspective they made perfect sense. It was frightening and appalling on the one hand but the psychologist and theorist he was he couldn't deny that it was just as fascinating on another level.

But even on the moral level – yes, a part of him was still appalled, even more so now that he knew she was still walking around killing, betraying, selling out information and people alike, doing anything that could further her objective, regardless of the consequences for the rest of the world. But he also knew that objective now, and it changed everything. Not that she wanted to live or even that she wanted to get out - the first one nothing new, the latter one a precondition that made it possible for him to look at her or be in the same room with her. No, it was something else, something he had thought to have discovered a long time ago, he didn't know exactly when.

_Every time you remember what I am, every time you feel guilty about it, I do too. _

That was why she needed him, that was what she got out of being with him. Being reminded of who she was and feeling sick about it. And wanting to be something else.

He had assumed it at first, doubted it then, dismissed it last night before she had opened up, but in the end he had been right all along. And again he couldn't help but understand why she had never been able to voice that fact before: because she was afraid that it was too late. She had indicated it once. _I can't be fixed._ Back in the cabin._ A little late to make amends._

He closed his eyes, blinking against the throbbing pain in his head. _But is that enough? _He didn't know. Was it enough to justify that he didn't turn his back on her, didn't turn her in, didn't despise her? Could it ever justify that…if he wanted to be with her?

_If? _

He knew he would probably keep struggling with the moral dilemma of his situation for the rest of his life, no matter what would happen from now on. But he also knew a part of him had already made a decision.

It had been the same dream again that had made him jolt awake. Summer, a warm and sunny day, his parents' garden, all those people there that he knew from different periods of his life. Nina shooting that same faceless, nameless guy, Davis reminding him that it was simply in her nature, his parents telling him they just wanted him to be happy. Him and Nina dancing until Jack showed up.

_"What's wrong?" he asked, but she just shook her head, letting go of him, standing, faltering, staggering back. "Nina," he tried again. "What's wrong?" But again, she just shook her head, still clutching her chest, obviously not able to breathe, stumbling, falling, sinking to the ground. He stared at her, but noticed something at the periphery of his field of vision, and turning his head, he caught sight of a single man, standing in the distance, his arms hanging down at his sides, his eyes riveted on Nina. Hating eyes, revengeful eyes. Eyes he was going to kill her with, as if his look was choking her. And she had noticed him as well, lying on the grass, almost peaceful now, holding Jack's stare, not struggling anymore, and then, when the color started leaving her face, looking up into the sky, as if trying to catch a last glimpse of it before her eyes would fall shut. _

He couldn't tell how many times he had had that same dream, how many times he had woken up at that point. But this time, the dream hadn't been over yet.

_And finally he snapped out of his paralysis. Hesitant at first but then more determined, he jumped forward and was by her side, kneeling down, pulling her into his arms, holding her. And jerking his head up, he looked at Jack again, who had taken his eyes off of Nina, and was staring at him now instead, not with hate but reproachful, burdening guilt on Nick's shoulders. But one more glimpse at Nina's face and he was sure. "I'm sorry," he whispered, mimicked towards Jack, and then turned around with Nina in his arms, positioning himself between her and Jack, blocking, shielding her from those murderous eyes._

If he was a different person, maybe he could tell himself it was just a dream? That it didn't mean anything…

¤¤¤

A cab had just dropped its passengers off and Nina quickly pulled into the parking space in front of the terminal and turned the engine off. She was waiting for him to say something or just get out of the car and leave but he didn't move.

She folded her hands in her lap and let her gaze wander around, feeling nervous and uncomfortable. She had no idea what to do. This was not how she had imagined it would end.

"There should be a flight within the next few hours," she said, really just to say anything. And finally, he looked up, apparently only now noticing they had reached their destination.

A patrol car drove by slowly, and she caught sight of two officers stepping out of the terminal, one of them briefly waving towards his colleagues and then turning back to his partner. Engaged in what seemed like small talk, the two cops came walking towards them, and Nina couldn't but watch them closely, her eyes following them and the glances they occasionally darted at parked cars and early morning travelers. Finally they were walking past them.

"Is this what you want?"

She turned her head around, catching Nick's inquiring gaze.

_What? Always having to turn around, always being a bit on the run? _She had a last look at the two officers who were continuing their stroll down the sidewalk. She thought she had explained it to him.

Following her gaze, he shook his head.

"I'm not talking about them. I mean this."

She frowned but understood when he motioned towards the sliding doors of the terminal just a few meters away. He meant him leaving, he meant this being it. If he walked away now…there was no coming back.

_If you let him walk_, a voice inside her qualified.

She turned away and sighed.

"Nina," he insisted next to her, the tone of his voice more intruding than if he had grabbed her by her shoulders and forced her to look at him. "Is this what you want?"

Was it?

She rolled her eyes, annoyed with herself for not having an answer. _Not true. _She just couldn't say it.

"It doesn't matter what I want," she explained instead. "It stopped mattering a long time ago." And there was no one else to blame but herself.

"Bullshit," he retorted agitated. "You want to be able to look in the mirror again, you want to get out? You're waiting for your chance? Then it does matter what you want. So tell me – is this part of it?"

Again she felt the urge to avoid him, to look away, but the piercing look of his eyes made it impossible.

She swallowed, struggling with too many thoughts running through her head all at once.

_Let him go. _Things would be much less complicated when he was out of the picture, and she could finally focus on what was lying ahead again.

_What's the alternative? _He would just get in the way. And whatever he was thinking right now, nothing had changed. There was still no way he would be able to handle knowing she was still working. He hadn't changed.

_Even if he did, even if it works out – it's a risk. _Someone could find out. Her employer could find out. Jack could find out. She didn't even know which would be worse.

_And what's going to happen once you're out? _Would he really be willing to give up everything and be on the run with her? Because even with enough money to disappear for good she wouldn't be able to ever go back and if he was with her neither would he. Was he really prepared for that? Did he have any idea what he was getting himself into?

_No, he doesn't. _

She really couldn't think of one sound reason to stop him but when he abruptly turned away and reached for the door handle all of that suddenly disappeared.

"Wait."

He hesitated, his hand still on the handle though, and she clenched her teeth.

"It's not." It wasn't what she wanted. Maybe there was no sound reason but she still didn't want him to leave.

Slowly, he leaned back in his seat again, trying to hide his relief but without much success. Not looking at her but staring straight ahead, he gave them both a moment before moving on.

"What's next then?"


	26. Part 21

_Three months later…

* * *

_

**d2**: **+ 3 years**

**d3**:** − 2 days

* * *

**

**Part XXI: The time it takes to get from here to there

* * *

**

A single drop fell from her hand and she let her eyes follow it on its way down, watched it colliding with the still surface of the water and sending tiny ripples through the tub. But the drop was so small, the whole spectacle only lasted a second.

She would leave around noon. Even if there were any delays she would still arrive in due time. Enough time to take care of last preparations, check with the back-up team her employer would send along, and wait for Amador to call and give her the exact location. Forty-eight hours from now it would all be over.

_Amador. _He was the pivotal point in the entire operation. If he stuck to the plan they would all go home with more than what they had come with but if he tried to screw her… But why should he. It hadn't been hard to convince him, once she had explained the upsides of the deal. And there were no downsides. Not for him. And she knew that he had enough respect for her not to underestimate her. She was prepared, had her back-up, and dealing with Amador directly he would get all her attention. He wouldn't be so stupid as to try anything and if he did her instincts would tell her. Forty-eight hours from now she would be free.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head further back, and felt Nick pulling her a little closer. They would be free.

"What are you thinking?" he asked close to her ear.

"I'm thinking it's getting cold in here."

"Then one of us will have to move and let some warm water in," he remarked.

"I guess so," she agreed, not moving though to reach for the faucet either.

"I'd do it," he exclaimed, "but then you would have to move anyway."

"True," she stated with a dramatic sigh. "Then I guess we'll both freeze."

He chuckled.

"Or," he implied, nuzzling her neck, "there's always another way to keep us warm."

"Really," she sneered, turning just a little bit to look at him.

"Yeah. There's this thing I remember from boy scout camp."

Her turn to chuckle, but he silenced her with a kiss that lasted long enough to make her forget why she had been laughing. She was still smiling though when he withdrew from her, slowly, softly, his eyes still closed, his forehead resting against hers. He suddenly seemed serious, and when he finally looked at her again, an almost sad expression in his face, she moved her hand from the back of his head to his cheek.

"What is it?"

"If something happens," he started, but she shook her head slightly.

"Nothing's going to happen."

"You don't know that," he objected, calm but insistent, and for a second she felt tempted to promise him that nothing would happen. Not that she could, but for a second she wanted to tell him anyway.

"If something goes wrong -"

"I promise," she tried to reassure him, "I don't have any intention to let anything go wrong."

"I know," he sighed, displaying a thin smile. "I know."

Of course he did, but she could tell he was still worried. And so was she suddenly. Just not about the same thing.

They had talked it through. She had explained to him that this was the one deal she had been waiting for, the last one if everything went according to plan. He hadn't asked about details, just seemed relieved that the day had finally come. _Just tell me where and when we'll meet afterwards._ And she had. But there was something – she didn't know how to tell him.

"If something goes wrong," she started. _Yeah, if… _"If something goes wrong, I'm going to have to take care of it."

He nodded but remained silent, casting his eyes down for a moment. This was the part he was still uncomfortable with.

"Nick," she insisted, forcing him to look at her again. She needed him to know. To understand. "This is it. It's either everything or nothing. I don't think there will be any complications but if there are…" She just wanted him to be prepared. If something went wrong, if Amador tried anything or they got set up, she would have to push everything else aside and do what was necessary. There would be no room for second thoughts or doubts, for that human side he was so proud of having restored. "If there are, I'll have to -"

"Just…do whatever you have to," he cut her off, his eyes telling her again what he had already told her before. _I don't want to know. _He didn't want to know details of the job, didn't want to know what she would deal with or who. And thinking of what it was that she was supposed to purchase for her employer, she was actually relieved. Nick would have a hard time coping with it, and although she had no intention to actually deliver the virus, although she wouldn't have anything to do with proliferating something that could kill millions of people she couldn't help but be uncomfortable with the whole situation as well. She knew Amador would sell it anyway and someone would buy it no matter what, either to use it or to get it off the market. The whole thing wouldn't just go away simply because she abstained from taking the one chance she had to get out. Just like the world wouldn't be a better place with or without her in it, active or inactive.

¤¤¤

_I don't want to know. _

Nina hinted a nod and he knew she had understood. He really didn't want to hear about it.

The academic term was over, he was on vacation, and had spent the last month with her in Africa. She had been against it at first, even refused to discuss it with him but in the end she had caved and told him why she didn't want him around permanently. She had told him about Jack's whispered threat, about the promise to keep an eye on her and pay her a visit if she ever got attached to anything. Or anyone.

In a way, Nick could understand Bauer. So did Nina. _I took his wife from him, the mother from his daughter_, she had explained._ Jack is the kinda guy who believes in an-eye-for-an-eye. It would be the only truly fulfilling revenge for him to take someone from me who I care about._ And despite the seriousness of the situation, Nick had failed to smother a smile, and in response to the frown on Nina's face he had explained: _it's just the closest you've ever been to telling me that you love me. _It hadn't been a complaint. He had never used those words either.

He had argued that, although he didn't know Jack the way she did, he couldn't believe he would be capable of doing something like that. _He won't come after me. He might come after you – _and he couldn't say he wasn't worried about that – _but he wouldn't kill me just to hurt you. He's maybe acting on his anger much more than you but he wouldn't go that far. _

She had admitted that he had a point but maintained that she wasn't willing to take a risk. But he had told her that he was. _I'm willing to bet my life on it. _If it meant he could be with her - and he really didn't think Bauer would be able to keep his promise. There was no doubt on Nick's mind that Jack would be able to kill Nina – but an innocent man, a stranger he didn't even know? _He won't kill me. _In the end, Nina had given in.

_Just do whatever you have to do. _His own words echoed in Nick's mind now. He still wasn't happy with what it was she was doing and preferred not to talk or know about it. She had been off for jobs twice throughout that month, and he had hated to sit around and wait, imagining what she might be doing. But he could live with it as long as he knew she wasn't enjoying it and as long as he knew that it would soon be over. So, in a way he was glad she was leaving tomorrow, leaving for her last job. But also knowing that it was a major deal, something big, something worth a lot of money, he couldn't help but be scared. And it was enough to make him not care too much about what she would or wouldn't have to do in order to come back to him. _As long as she comes back alive… _

What did that say about him? Had he changed that much? Was he really that indifferent?

Nina pulled him closer for another kiss and then turned around again to lean back against him, and he wrapped his arm around her and held her close. She would leave around noon while he would stay behind a couple of hours more before it was time for him to get to the airport as well. She had wanted him to take a plane to South America and wait there until they would meet again the next day. But he had insisted on making a stop in the States and going to see Phil first. There was enough time anyway, and since they would have to disappear for good afterwards he really wanted to see Phil one last time. He had sensed Nina's hesitation and she still didn't like the idea of him being on American soil but maybe she had remembered that she owed Phil as well. She hadn't argued about it. _Alright. Stay there until you hear from me. _

He had called yesterday and Phil had sounded more than happy. It had been too long. Nick wondered if he should tell his friend that it would be the last time. Would it make things easier or harder? In any case, he would have to say goodbye eventually.

He didn't know where Nina would be in the meantime, didn't want to know, of course, but he had made one demand: he wanted to be able to reach her. And much to his surprise, she hadn't objected but simply given him a phone number. _Don't use it unless you have to._ She would call him when the first part of the deal was done and tell him where and when they would meet. If they would meet. If everything went according to plan…

He felt Nina's hand reaching for his under water and squeezing it gently.

"We'll be fine," she said softly, as if she had sensed his restlessness. "Don't worry."

He answered by wrapping his other arm around her as well and placing a kiss on her hair. Her reassurances didn't make him feel better and he knew if he spoke she wouldn't buy it. But he didn't want to bother her. She needed to be calm and focused. One last time. _Hopefully…_

He wasn't stupid. He had no illusions. She wouldn't just throw her gun away and renounce all violence. Whatever it was she would try to pull off tomorrow, it wouldn't make her less of a target. And no matter how much money she would have, no matter how many miles, countries or continents she would bring between herself and those who wanted to kill her, not to look over her shoulder would forever be a luxury she couldn't afford. He knew that. A situation like the one with Travis and Jared might occur again. A situation where someone found her and she would have to protect herself and do everything that was necessary to cover her tracks. Maybe it would never come to that but he knew there was a possibility. And he was glad that he felt he would be able to live with that as well. Because even if she really had to do what she had done countless times before, and even if it was for basically the same reason again he knew that something still wouldn't be the same anymore. Simply because she wasn't the same anymore.

_And because I don't want anything happening to her. _

Feeling her fingers running over his, he remembered something Phil had said all those months ago. About Eileen. _She'd love me anyway, regardless of what I did in the past. As long as I am the person I am today. _Back then, he had thought that Phil was probably right. That it would be more important to his wife what kind of person he was now. But he would never even have thought of applying the same logic regarding him and Nina. Besides the fact that he hadn't felt that way about her then, there was just no way to compare what she had done with what Phil had felt forced to do. Still, feeling the way he felt today, he knew he would be fine with whatever Nina would be forced to do – as long as he could see that she was not the same person anymore he had met at Division.

"Just promise me to be careful," he whispered. and although he couldn't see her face he could practically feel her sneering. Not that he could blame her. It was probably the most ridiculous thing to ask of her.

"You'll just have to trust me," she replied mockingly.

"I do." He hesitated for a second. "Do you?"

He could tell she tensed just a little bit and imagined the frown on her face.

"What do you mean?"

_I know you've never trusted anyone in your entire life..._

"If you had to trust me – would you?"

"With my life?" she asked, her intonation completely serious now.

"If that's what's at stake," he nodded, wondering why he was even asking. He already knew the answer. She had never really trusted anyone but herself.

"If I had a choice to rely on either you or me, I'd always pick me," she stated almost casually.

_Not exactly a surprise. _

"But I guess what you're asking is if I would trust you if I couldn't make it on my own," she continued, pausing a moment as if to think about it. "I would."

It took him a moment to figure out how he felt about her answer. He was a bit surprised, glad because he knew it was probably the best and most honest one he could get, and a bit insecure if there shouldn't be more than that. All at once.

_How about I'd give my life for you? How about I'd die for you? _Was that just highly overrated romantic sentiments or shouldn't she feel that way if she really…_cared about me. _The psychologist in him quickly considered the explanatory arguments. The good intentions behind a deed that seemed so purely altruistic, and the notion that it was a selfish act nonetheless. The idea of giving up the only truly essential thing for someone else and the suspicion that the real reason behind it, albeit not consciously considered, was to avoid the grief of watching the other one go and living with the void that was to come. It was a dispute that could never be won and it didn't get him any further. The question was still there because altruistic or selfish – you wouldn't want to save someone you didn't love, and you wouldn't want to fear the grief over someone you didn't care about. Still, he would never ask her for an answer because he knew he would have to start with himself. And he also knew that there was a limit as to how far he was willing to go, how much he was willing to give. Wanting her to live and be with him was one thing but he couldn't dismiss the fact that she deserved death in so many ways and for so many reasons. Ultimately, he knew he couldn't provide a satisfying answer. It would depend on the situation. If it was about something she had done or something she was about to do, something he really couldn't justify despite his feelings for her…

He wouldn't ask her.

And placing a soft kiss on her shoulder, he decided not to waste any more time on the whole issue. It wasn't exactly the kind of questions normal people would deal with anyway. And maybe it was time to get used to just that – acting like they were normal people.


End file.
